


Mute By Choice: The Silent Wolf

by AvyJC15



Series: Mute By Choice [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apparating (Harry Potter), Best Friends, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Dark Past, F/M, First Time Shifting, Fluff, Foreshadowing, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Muteness, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Platonic Relationships, Poltergeists, Pre-Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Shifters, Werewolves, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 76,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvyJC15/pseuds/AvyJC15
Summary: (Book I of the Mute By Choice Series)Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins' life changes, again when she suddenly chooses to take the path that would lead her on a journey with her first forever best friends: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and none other than Harry Potter. After living a horrible past and making the decision of becoming mute, will she finally be able to open up to these three children in just one year of school?Will anyone find out who and... what she really is?Catching Harry Potter's eye, will she feel the same as he feels? What is her true role in this path she has chosen to follow?





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> **ATTENTION** I DO NOT OWN ANY OF J.K. ROWLING'S ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FROM THE ORIGINAL HARRY POTTER. I ONLY OWN DELILAH, HER FAMILY, THE KIDS FROM THE ORPHANAGE, THE ADAMS, AND SOME OTHERS I MIGHT CREATE FURTHER ON.

_Magic is dangerous; it always comes with a price._

_You never know what the price is, but when you do... the idea bewilders you..._

_Because sometimes— most of the time... the price is death..._


	2. Don't look back

I watched.

I merely stood there and watched the roaring flames engulfing our small villa that was now collapsing.

 _Anima Curatoria_ would be no more. It was, now, just a matter of minutes before our territory became vast.

"Aurelia, take Delilah and run as fast as you can!" dad shouted. I might've been confused at why this was happening, but I didn't want to leave anyone behind. Not my three brothers, not my other relatives, not mom or dad... not Chance— my mate.

"No, Eben! We're not leaving you!" mom shouted back as she pulled me aside trying to dodge the burning pieces of wood that were flying around in the air.

"Daddy, come with us," I pleaded. We've lost so many people already— I didn't want to lose him too.

"I can't, sweetheart. I'm the alpha. I must stay behind, now go!" he shouted, pushing us towards the woods.

"No! If you stay, then I will stay too!" I protested, trying to get out of my mother's grip. I didn't want to leave. I couldn't. Why? The answer was all in my blood. The blood of a true alpha.

Dad smiled at me. "You truly carry the blood of an alpha. I'm proud of you, Lilly," he said, kneeling before me and scooping me up into a hug. Little did I know, that would be the last hug I would ever get from him.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged through the forest, the burning houses fading from my field of view as my eyes started to water. Holding my mother's hand, together, we kept running. It would have been faster if I had shifted, but I was still too young. We accelerated our run, but whatever happened next, happened too fast for my mind to comprehend it. We were thrown into the air in different directions— my mom was thrown into a bunch of bushes while I was thrown into a tree, breaking my right arm.

My mom quickly recovered and fought the wolf that had attacked us before it could call any more reinforcements, but it was too late; he had already howled. With one last punch, he fell unconscious but didn't phase back.

"Lilah, sweetheart, I need you to get to _in salvum domus_. I need you to run. Run as fast as you can, then run even faster than that. Don't look back, do you understand? Do whatever you have to do to get out of here, okay? Don't let them catch you, do you understand me?" she said.

I nodded, the tears already running down my cheeks. She pulled me into a tight hug, through which I couldn't help but grimace from the pain induced by my broken arm. I tried to hug back as best as I could, but I couldn't. 

Little would I know, that this would be the last hug I would ever get from her too.

"I love you," she whispered in my ear.

"I love you too, mama," I whispered back, fighting back the more tears that were threatening of coming out.

She kissed my cheek before letting go of me. I suddenly felt cold. "Now, go! Run!" I didn't know those would be the last words I would ever hear her say, but I obeyed. She told me to run.

So I did.

I ran.

I ran away from the other children's cries. I ran away from the war we couldn't win. I ran away and let my mother, my father, my brothers... Chance die. Now, I regret ever running.

I ran till I couldn't anymore. It was too dark for me to see— my senses weren't enhanced yet. I ran, and after I knew I was far enough, I let myself fall onto the ground that was now muddy because of the rain I had just realized was falling. I didn't get to _in salvum domus_ — our safe house. I couldn't run any further. I felt like I was dying, and even though I wasn't, I wanted to.

I wanted to die. I wanted to join the others... but I guess that wasn't going to happen any time soon. My whole body wasn't responding anymore, and I was now being engulfed by darkness. I didn't fight it, this time.

~~*~~

Light shone from the other side of my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes and lay there, the events from the previous night rushing back to me. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I pushed myself up but let out an ear piercing scream. I guess my arm wasn't the only thing I broke last night other than my heart.

Grunting, I finally got up, took a few shallow, deep breaths before making my way back to the villa that was probably deserted by now. I walked— dragged— myself along the forest ground for about ten minutes when the realization hit me: I have no idea how to get back. But then again, what would be the point in going back? I already know that no one will be there waiting for my return. They're all gone.

Biting my lower lip, I made my decision. I don't care if I'm only two years old, I look like I'm four— one of the perks of being a soul shifter. I'm going to walk— drag— in a new direction and start a new life. Make a new pack if I have to in honor of my family.

I wandered for about an hour, clutching my broken arm close to my side. The sun was rising higher in the sky, and I honestly had no idea where I was. I started to head back to where I had ended up last night to start my path all over again, but I lost my sense of direction.

"Shoot, shoot, crazy gun, shoot," I muttered to myself over and over again. Repeating the words kept me distracted.

"Shoot," I said again before leaning against the tree. It was cold, but I felt hot. I wasn’t in the best shape of my life. I had been physically wounded many times ever since I learned how to walk— dad thought it would be a good idea to start learning how to fight. My wounds had been worse back then, but that was only physical. Right now, I was hurt to the point where I want to die.

I heard the snap of a branch. I flipped around hoping to see a person but instead ran face-first into a mass of midnight black fur.

"Wolf!" I choked out. 

It was huge, the size of a horse. I was frozen in fear. It just stared at me with crystal blue eyes. I didn’t want to look away from them. I was afraid it would attack like the others from last night. And the eyes were so captivating along with— the right eye which was surrounded by a snowy white cursive _'c.'_

I stayed still, but so did the wolf. I could hear a howl from a distance. I sensed it was calling the wolf. It took a step forward causing me to stumble back into the tree. My whole body pressed up against the tree, and I couldn't help but grimace at the pain shooting through my broken arm. The wolf took two more steps toward me— a concerned look clouding its face, which slightly confused me—and then stopped as another howl broke through the forest. The wolf looked at me once more before running off.

I didn’t wait to take off. I ran, off-handedly, as fast as I could in the opposite direction, the tree branches bashing against my shoulders but hardly causing me to slow down. My lungs hurt, my legs burned, and sweat dripped down the side of my face. I knew the wolf could catch up with me; I wasn't quite a runner in the state I was at the moment. But I kept running now, my legs pumping, hoping to reach a town as soon as possible.

I ran for as long as I could. The sun now high in the sky and I had no clue of where I was. I knew in Portland or Seattle; you wander fifty miles before seeing a town. But here in Battle Ax, the terrain was just mountains on mountains with trees piling up on the land. I wanted to move, but my legs were against me. I crumpled to the ground dying from the pain. I didn't even care if I wasn't fed; I just wanted the pain to go away. I grabbed the hem of my flannel shirt and hugged it tight to my body with my woundless arm. The sun was shining ever so brightly, and I had no clue where I was. The cold edges of the tree scratched my back. I have to admit that for the first time in forever, _I_ was scared.

"Get up. You need to try harder than that," a voice came from the side. It wasn’t directed toward me, but I didn’t care. I was just excited that people were close.

I got up slowly, my legs tired from the running. I could feel the tingles and lightness that comes after working hard. I pushed myself off of the tree stumbling my way towards the voice.

"I am!" another voice shouted back, though it was younger than the first one— a boy. It was a bit louder than the first, meaning I was getting closer.

"You aren’t trying hard enough. Go again," the first voice said. He sounded older, like a man in his forties.

I picked up my pace a bit, the eagerness of being found being too much for me. All I could think about was being saved and healed.

"I’m trying, father," the second voice puffed through breaths. I could see a clearing; lights surrounded it, causing a glow that I couldn’t miss.

"Try harder," the first voice said.

The light was getting brighter, and I could see that the trees were clearing out. As I got closer, I cautiously slowed my pace; something about this scene created knots in my stomach, making me feel queasy.

"Fine," the young voice said.

As I got closer, I could see the outline of two people, each step revealing more detail than the last. It was dark, but they had lanterns in a circle surrounding the trees. They looked similar to each other but different. One was younger, about seven years old, if not a couple of years older. He had a hard look, with jet black hair and bulging with muscles. The other looked like an older version of him, with dark grey and black hair. I could tell that they were related, father and son.

Again I got that sense in my stomach that something was off with this picture. It was late and why were they in the middle of nowhere.

"Go," the dad said.

I was close enough that I could hide behind a tree but still see them. The son stepped back staring at the dad. He raised his fist, as the Dad just stood there. He made a yelling noise before he lunged at the dad. The dad took a step forward before kicking the son in the gut. He lands with a thump on the ground.

I stared at them; I had never been in a fight, nor had I ever even seen one as brutal... except for last night, but even then it was too dark for me to see. I could tell they were practicing, but it didn’t look like the dad was taking it easy on the son.

The son jumped up lunging forward again and manages to land a punch before the dad backhands him.

"Is this how you are planning on becoming an alpha in a few years?!" the dad shouted at his son. "By being weak and pathetic?"

The son glared up at the dad. He took a step to the side, but the dad didn't move.

"I will become Alpha!" the son shouted at the dad.

"Really?" the dad said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Wait a minute... _alpha_? Shoot. If they aren't what I think they are, then I have no idea what they could be, but either way, I seriously have to get out of here, now.

The son took a step back before taking a running start at the dad. He jumped in the air arms first. I felt a buzz in the air, but and looked with astonishment to see that the dad was wrestling with a wolf. A giant brown wolf was pinning the dad down.

Shoot, shoot, crazy gun, shoot! Werewolf incoming!

I slowly stepped back a couple of steps, snapping a twig under my foot. I froze and cursed under my breath— funny for a two-year-old to do so— noticing that the wolf and the dad were both looking in my direction. I stopped breathing and instantly took off in the direction I came from, ignoring the pain shooting through my injured arm. I could hear the thumps of feet and paws against the leaves, louder with each step.

I didn't make it far; the dad and the son quickly caught up to me. I felt a pressure on my broken arm as the air rushes around me and I let out an ear piercing scream before growling and quickly clutching it to my side. I heard a crunch before I felt the pain in my back. The sticks under me broke into sharp sticks stabbing into my stomach. The tree behind me had a faint crack in it.

"What do we have here?" the dad said, his cloudy grey eyes glaring down at me. The wolf, in turn, started to lose his fur as the son turned backs to his human self. A _naked_ human self.

"A lost traveler," the son said smirking at me, his eyes the same cloudy grey as the dad’s, with a hint of humor in them. I tried to crawl away, but before I made it anywhere, the father grabbed me by the neck lifting me against a tree, making me yelp in pain as my arm hit the tree and my feet dangled a couple of inches from the ground. I tried to kick out, but the father slammed me into the tree, bringing small stars to my eyes.

"In this neck of the woods?" the dad said, showing the same smirk as the son.

"Such a shame," the son replied, making me growl at them. They looked at me in surprise, but that look only lasted for a second.

I was now trying to claw away at the dad’s hand. It was tight and painful, but  at least I was able to breathe. I kept trying to get away even though I knew it was useless. He was in control.

"Anybody looking for you?" the dad asked.

"They are all dead," I snarled at him.

"I think she's lying," the son sneered.

"Why would I be? I have been lost here since last night's attack on our villa," I replied in a cold tone as I finally managed to rip away the dad's grip upon me. I clutched my neck but then let out a hiss as I remembered my broken arm.

"Don’t be stupid," the dad said, completely ignoring me as the smirk fell from the son’s face. "Of course she is. It will be a while before they notice her missing— days, weeks, maybe even months."

"Did you not hear what I just said?" I hissed, catching their attention. "My family is dead. My parents, my brothers, my _pack_ and my _mate_ are all gone! Burnt into cinders," I said, realizing I finally caught their attention with the 'pack and mate' part.

A smirk, then, grew on the father's face. "Perfect. Then what should we do with her?"

"Sally died last month," the son said with a shrug, a smile playing on his lips making me feel uncomfortable.

"Was it you or Alice that killed her?" the dad asked.

"She... fell," the son said, laughing at the end of it.

The dad rolled his eyes. "Like the one before her?" He, too, had a humorous tone. "She will be for your sister then."

"She always gets the human," the son complained, his shoulder dropping in disappointment.

"Relax, Axel. It isn’t like the family can’t use her as well," the dad said.

"Human? Your senses are clearly not well enhanced, mongrel," I muttered under my breath.

"No talking unless spoken to," the dad ordered. I raised an eyebrow at him. No one orders an alpha around; that is against every natural law.

"We are werewolves, sweetie," Axel said, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"And I am a fairy," I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "I know you are a werewolf. For one, by your scent. For two, you just phased back and forth in front of me."

"Shut it, Axel," the dad said before looking at me straight in the eyes. "And you, don't talk unless spoken to," he repeated.

"Who is she going to tell?" Axel asked.

"Fine." The father pushed, making me fall to the ground clutching at my arm and taking deep breaths. "Take her back to the house; I’ll grab the lights. Another practice wasted," he said, muttering the last three words before walking back to where he came from.

"Aren’t you a pretty one?" Axel asked as he came closer. I backed up, once again feeling the bark of the tree scratching into my back.

"Oh, and Axel, no horsing around. Make sure she lasts the week," the dad added.

"Don’t worry, Dad. I think she will be around for a long while." Axel stepped immediately in front of me, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. I stared into his eyes, seeing the same eyes as the father’s, but softer, with my orange-pink morning glory begonian eyes.  

"Come on," Axel said, dropping her chin. I didn’t move. I was frozen in fear and wounded.

He rolled his eyes. "I said, come on!" he barked impatiently, pulling me up and throwing me over his shoulder. I whimpered in pain.

He froze and put me back down. He studied me, with concern clouding his face. "Are you hurt?" he asked. 

All I could do was simply nodded, unable to form any more words. He then sighed and picked me up bridal style. I let out a loud piercing scream as my arm got squeezed between his chest and my side.

"Shut her up," the dad shouted from the trees as I whimpered in pain.

Axel sighed. "Please, shut up," he whispered as I whimpered before nodding

"Put her in the attic," was the last thing I heard before darkness gained on me.


	3. No place like home

I spent the past seven years with the Adams, being ordered around. I lived in their attic. By now I looked my age, nine, since my growing genes slowed down, but I had already hit the start of puberty, meaning I have breasts which Axel so kindly wouldn't keep his eyes off... I hate him.

They were the worst family anyone could ever come across. 

There were five of them; there's Christophe, who is the father, husband, and man of the house, then comes his wife, Anna. Then, of course, we have the kids, Axel being the eldest who is now fifteen, Alice being the second eldest is now thirteen, and Annabelle being now the youngest is nine, like me. They had a younger brother, Elliot, but he died at the age of two.

Out of all of them, the only ones I respect are Alice and Annabelle. Mostly Annabelle because she takes care of me and stops the others from hurting me. Alice beats me up when we're in front of her dad, but the moment he leaves, she apologizes and heals me. Axel... he had my respect the first few days, but as time went by, he grew cockier before ending up as a total jerk and a pervert. I even lost count of the many times he tried to rape me. Anna... she is just an evil bitch! Pardon my language, but it's true... I mean she is a werewolf... She's never satisfied with what I do, even when I do it exactly as she tells me to do it.

Like last year, when she made me prepare tones of things for Alice's twelfth birthday. Anna was ordering me around, and Axel was his usual cocky self-trying to _get_ me.

~*~

_It took all day to clean the place, especially after I tried to run away, again. They locked all the doors. And the windows were un-shatterable, I found out about that after I tried to throw a chair at the kitchen window. It bounced back slamming into my stomach. I crawled out from under it, staring at the window. Not even a scratch._

_"You can’t escape," Axel said after an hour of me trying to find ways out the windows and the door._

_As he entered the kitchen, I froze in place deep breathing through my nose. Throwing a chair was easy for me, but doing it multiple times was wearing me out._

_"We made this place impossible to escape for humans," Axel said. And there he goes again, calling me a human. Shoot, I guess the only ones who will ever understand that I'm not human will always be Alice and Annabelle._

_I just stared at him, my eyes narrowed, watching him pour juice into a glass. He walked over to me; I stepped back into the smooth window. He kept stepping forward an inch or two away from my face. He brought his hand up wiping away some of the sweat on my face._

_"Might want to get back to work. Mom doesn’t like it when you slack off," Axel said, bringing his hand down to give my butt a squeeze._

_I tried to shove him away, but he sidestepped me, dropping his juice to the floor, the glass shattering. I tensed up as he grabbed both of my wrists, pressing me up against the window._

_"I like them feisty," Axel said into my ear before crashing his lips onto mine. I tried to fight as he bit my lips, but I wasn't able to move._

_"She has work to do. You can play with her later," Anna said walking into the room. Axel licked my lips before dropping my wrists and giving my butt one more squeeze before sauntering off. I had to fight the urge to bleach my lips since Anna was standing right there._

_"Clean up this mess and no more slacking off, worthless," Anna ordered, staying where she was to make sure I got the job done._

_First I had to find the cleaning supplies while Anna sat at the counter drinking wine and reading her novel. The supplies were in a side cabinet near the kitchen, although that was too much information for Anna to provide. The cleaning took a while, but most of the day was spent on the preparation of the cake._

_I had cooked before. At home, my mom or my grandma would be baking and I would assist, and I would do it myself sometimes when my mom wasn't in the right state to do it. I was a good cook, most of my old and family said so. But, apparently, for Anna, I wasn't good enough._

_As I worked in the kitchen, I noticed it was getting late, and I was only halfway through decorating the cake. I used pink and blue dye to make the frosting a light purple, and I managed to build a pyramid looking cake with three layers. I was impressed even for me._

_Suddenly my face was drowning in cold and sugary cream. My eyes started to burn. I stood up wiping frosting from her eyes, flinging cake to the floor._

_"What is this? I told you this is her twelfth birthday and you provide this crap for her? She isn't twenty," Anna said. "Start over and don’t give me this crap."_

_I walked over the sink, trying to wash away the frosting from my hair and face._

_"Is she done yet? I don’t want the guest to see her like this," Alice said, concern written all over her face and voice as she ran into the kitchen. The sun had set, and it was getting late._

_"She is finishing up. Blame your father for bringing home a stupid one," Anna replied._

_"Relax, Allie. It’s just a stupid birthday," Axel says walking into the room._

_I tensed as I felt his presence, feeling him getting closer, but I didn't want to stop frosting the cake. This one took me twice as long as the first one, Anna criticizing me the whole time._

_"It’s not just a birthday, I'm turning twelve at exactly midnight and twelve minutes," she said proudly. "And I think Jason will finally ask me out. I just know it."_

_"Sure he will. Plus it doesn’t matter because I will be Alpha soon,” Axel said as he walked over to the cake, one hand squeezing my butt, the other hand swiping some frosting from the cake. "Tasty," Axel whispered into my ear before kissing my neck. A shudder rippled down my back._

_"Of course he will ask you out," Annabelle said, walking into the kitchen._

_"Stop kissing ass, Annabelle. You still aren’t invited to the party. I told you before. No losers allowed," Alice teased._

_"Oh, shut up. You know I am," Annabelle replied, playfully nudging her sister._

_Alice giggled before her eyes widened in shock. "Oh my god, I think people are arriving. Get rid of her clothing and give her something else to put on," she said pointing at me._

_"I will do it," Axel said, smirking while wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing his way up and down my neck._

_"No, Axel," Alice said quickly. "Um... you go greet the people. Annabelle, clean her up and give her something new to we—"_

_"No, Annabelle, take her up to her room and lock her up," Anna said, cutting Alice off. Both sisters gave me apologetic looks before I made my way up to my room._

~*~

Yes, Axel was a darn pervert, and Anna was a beast, but no one surpassed the man of this house. He would beat the crap out of me, most of the time, but he would go way beyond beating at other times. And when he would do it, it would always be at night in my room. Every time it's always the same, yet it's still hard to get used to it. My room was not big; it was as big a cell, something like two by two meters. The perfect place to be tortured, presently as I had been in the past seven years. As I mentioned before I am nine and I'm being tortured to death yet I'm not dying.

I was in my room sitting on the edge of my bed, looking down at my hands. After about three hours, I felt someone enter my room. I looked up and froze.

I was confused. I wanted to say something, but the fact that I hadn't spoken in a long time, my voice came out strangled, and words came out in stutters. "W-wh-a-are—"

"I always get what I want," he started, grabbing me by my wrists and pinning me down on my bed.

"Wh—"

"And right now, I want you," he said in a dark, low voice as he tightened his grip.

What was he going to do to me? He started to take off my shirt off, and that's when I understood. I started to struggle and squirm, trying to get away, but it was no use, he was too strong. He was in control.

"N-n-p-pl—"

He wouldn't stop. He started to unbutton my shorts. Why wasn't Alice or Annabelle helping me? My shirt was off, and I was now in my washed out bra as he kept trying to unbutton my shorts. He cursed under his breath as he couldn't get it to open. Sighing, he left it at that and grabbed my wrist once again. I tried to escape, but he was too strong. My blood boiled as he smirked down at me and looked at my body.

"Scars and bruises aren't enough to cover up such a beauty," he whispered in a husky voice.

I tried to wriggle my way out again, but I couldn't move anymore the moment he crashed his lips on mine. I started shaking my head. I didn't want this. He might want me, but I don't want him or anything to do with him. I had a mate. He may be dead now, but even so, I was taught to stay loyal to anyone who meant the world to me, no matter the circumstances.

I wanted him off me, and then the next thing I knew, he was thrown against the wall at the other side of my room. I quickly sat up and saw Alice and Annabelle standing at the doorway, both looking shocked and seriously pissed off.

"AXEL! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG IN THAT FUCKED UP SKULL OF YOURS?!" Alice shouted, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out of the room as Annabelle raced over to me.

"Oh my God, Delilah. Are you okay?"

"I-I..." I couldn't speak anymore. Was it possible that I had forgotten how to speak? I don't think so. No one can really forget something like that. She bit her lower lip and was about to add something, but Anna called her to go downstairs. I shakily nodded at her to go as she gave me an apologetic look before rushing over to the door.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll try to make it up to you." With that said, she sent me a small smile before walking out and shutting the door behind her, leaving me to myself.  

Sighing, I grabbed my shirt and off-handedly put it back on before going to sit on the edge of my bed once again and stared down at my hands, still shaken up about what had just happened. After a few minutes passed, I felt someone else enter my room. I looked up only to stare back at the one other person I truly hate— the man of the house— and see him standing there, by the door closed behind him, with his left hand curled up into a fist and the other holding a knife. I swallowed hard and instinctively gripped onto the edge of my bed and started moving backward as I looked at Christophe. I looked down at myself and gave one glance at my beat up clothes— my shorts pretty ripped up, and my shirt with holes in it covered in old bloodstains— before looking back up at him.

I knew what was coming.

"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape," he said as I tried to get away. "You are not going away, so come back here so I can finish with you," he said, anger in his voice.

Breathing heavily, I looked down, again, at my upper arms and saw the scars that I have sustained through the years I had spent here and had to go through the torture. My breathing hitched as he came nearer again and held me by my waist.

"NO!! PLEASE!!" I wanted to shout, but my lips wouldn't move. I wanted to start screaming, but I knew that no one would come for me nor hear me because this room was sound proof. If Alice and Annabelle came earlier just in time before Axel went any further, it was just a mere coincidence. I started prying his hands off, but it didn’t work, he was way too strong.

He turned my body around in one fluid move, and he sat on my thighs, he slipped my shorts off till I was left in my underwear and he started cutting with a sharp knife in the small of my back. I knew that he was writing another word, but I couldn’t make out the letters because of two reasons— one the letters were too small and two it hurts so much that I couldn’t think about anything else than the pain. I screamed and wriggled to come out of his grasp, but he held my arms just above where he was cutting with the knife, and my body didn’t even move an inch.

I was screaming and was surprised that his ears didn’t start bleeding. He shook me, probably to shut me up. I didn’t cry because I couldn't. Ever since I came into that night, I have never cried. I hadn't been able to. But it was a perk of mine, because if I was able to cry, well let's just say I would be hoping I didn't in the moments I'm being tortured because I know that he wouldn't appreciate that and would only beat me up more. I have to be completely still… wait I have to be completely still. I stood still, not wriggling or screaming anymore, I bit my lips and shut my eyes tightly and counted every second that passed as I waited for it to be over and for the darkness to take over me as it usually does...

~~*~~

Today was the day Axel would be fighting for the title of alpha against Jason. I know it's cruel to think this way, but I seriously hope he dies. I had my doubts though since I've seen him train practically every day ever since I had met him seven years ago.

And well other than that... he's got Christophe as a father. The man's trained Axel every day, always pushing him. And there's also the fact that when Christophe had to show a move, he would use me, making it easier for Axel to see what is going on. I was Axel's personal training dummy. Always there when he was taught a new move, then practiced on for the next week straight. I hated it, always getting random bruises along my arms and sides, but Axel seemed to love it being able to be so close to me, and being able to wrap his body around me. It was disgusting.

"Remember you can’t kill him, Jason is my mate," Alice said.

"Oh is that why he hasn’t marked you yet, and I promise I won’t kill him. I want him to see me rule what his family built up," Axel said.

"And what if he wins?" Alice said, smirking.

"Bitch, way to support your family," Axel replied.

"He is my mate; I love him. So yes, I do wish him best," Alice said.

"Oh, just shut up, this is what I’ve been training for my whole life. I will win," Axel said.

I wasn't paying much attention, just thinking dab, circle, circle, and repeat. I did feel when Axel's hand landed on my butt. "Isn’t that great, when I become Alpha nobody can stop me from having what’s mine," Axel whispered in my ear.

"Leave her alone, Axel," Alice hissed at him. "Don't you dare go putting your dirty hands all over her body." He gave her a weird look.

She shrugged and quickly said, "I don’t see why you like the human so much."

He started to kiss my jaw, his hand roaming under my shirt, making me grit my teeth as he almost reached my breasts. I hadn't had any change of clothes in the past four years. It was getting smaller, but it still fit me since I was super thin. They do let me clean it every Sunday, so I don't start smelling up the place, but the clothes I have now are torn with bleach stains covering most of the front along with some bloodstains I couldn’t get rid of.

"I don’t know either, but something about her makes me want her," Axel said, biting down on my ear as I just gulped but continued doing my work, not looking up.

"Hey bro, how about we go warm up a bit before the big fight," Annabelle said, dragging her brother away. I was about to smile a bit but didn't because I knew soon Annabelle wouldn’t be able to be there for me.

"Axel always gets what he wants," Alice said, frowning. She came up to me and leaned against the counter looking at the door.

"We'll be gone for a while," she started, reaching for something in her pocket. She brought out a small jewelry box which she put in the pocket of my shorts. "While we're gone, I want you to run and never look back. Never come back. We've made you suffer enough for no reason at all," she said.

I opened my mouth about to say something after so many years of not talking. "Please. I'm going to miss you because you are honestly the first and only best friend I've ever had other than my sister. But it's not fair for me to want to keep you here when you'll only be suffering. You deserve your freedom. I know that after what happened to your family and what my own has done to you, there will never be another place like your true home, but I want you to be free," she said, shocking me by kissing my forehead before walking out of the house as well.

I shook my head before resuming my work. I was busy cleaning the sink for the next hour, moving on to Alice's room, then Axel's room, and then Annabelle's room, which hers and her sister's just needed a vacuuming, while the Axel's looked like a tornado hit it. I waited for them to leave for the fight before I started their rooms. I didn’t want them to be annoyed with me being around. Once I was done with that, I started dinner, but none were back yet. I wasn't sure if I should do as Alice said. It was a full moon, and normally they didn’t come home for the night, deciding to run around the woods. I packed up dinner at eight, knowing if it is this late they won’t be coming home for the night. I walked up the stairs preparing to clean the office, I could put it off until tomorrow, but after a full moon the family is always extra hungry, and breakfast takes extra-long.

I entered the room grabbing my cleaning basket on the way. I took a moment to examine the window; it’s huge, displaying the whole forest. The trees were at a distance but not that far, the moonlight making the droplets of water shine off of them. It was beautiful, breathtaking, and I loved it. I'd take some nights off and just sit in this room, thinking of a different world. One where I was never captured and got to go to a school and... learn, another plot that runs into my mind is a dashing prince, like in those stories my mother would tell me, coming and saving me, all them ending with me out of my hell hole. Tonight the moonlight lit up the whole room; I didn't even bother turning on the lights. I heard a slam downstairs. I guess somebody forgot something before they decided to go for the run. I didn't really know what they needed, but I was guessing a second pair of clothes. I just continued to dust the bookcase.

"What are you doing up here?" a voice said from the doorway. My breath got caught up in my throat; it was Axel in the doorway. I hated being in a room alone with him, but now the whole house. I didn't respond. I wasn't allowed to talk. That's why I haven't spoken a word in the past seven years.

I continued to clean the books, not looking away.

"Turn around," his voice sounded pissed, and by my guess, he didn’t win the Alpha fight. I slowly turned around, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"I don’t know why I want you, but there is something about you. Look at me," Axel ordered. I looked up to see that Axel crossed the floor and was now standing right in front of me. He had a scratches across his face, blue and black covering the skin showing. I was happy to see him hurt. "I might not have won Alpha, but you will still be mine," he bellowed. 

I didn’t even think when I grabbed my bleach spraying Axel in the eyes. He growled rubbing his eyes but shoved me onto the ground not letting me get away.

I tried to start screaming, but no sound came out of my mouth. I knew this would happen, but it was one of the things that I wished never did.

"Shut up," Axel growled. He hit me, but it wasn't hard enough to knock me out. He was now on top of me straddling me, my hands caught in his. I kept on trying to scream, wiggling away from him. Axel was starting to get angry; I could see it in his grey eyes.

"Please," I tried to say, but nothing came out. I wanted to cry, but the darn tears wouldn't come out. I stopped for a second throwing him off guard; it was enough for me to throw myself to the side, getting about a foot away from him before I felt the most painful thing in the world. I looked at my side, to see Axel crouched over me with his teeth biting into my side.

"You will be mine," he hissed. He grabbed me throwing me on my back. This time, I let out an ear piercing scream, feeling him bite onto my neck. I could feel the blood oozing out of my side and neck, my back screaming in pain from the scratch of his nails. I wanted to black out, to pass out like I normally did when I start to feel a bit of pain, but my body wouldn’t.

I could feel his claws scratching against my stomach, a second later my shirt was ripped up more than it was before. I screamed, but nobody was coming for me.

I felt each thrust, each scratch, and every time he decided to bite me somewhere else on my body. I stopped screaming after a while, my voice once again hoarse. I was tired and just took it, thinking of the day I would finally die. Hoping it was this day.

He left me there, going to join the rest on the run. I just continued to lie there, staring expressionlessly at the blood next to me. Knowing it was mine, but I didn’t care. I liked the way it dripped off my fingers, landing with a splat back into the puddle. I looked to the side seeing a knife-like letter opener on the desk. 

I smiled; that’s it. I can be done with the pain. 

He wouldn’t stop, and I knew that I didn’t have the strength to run. I just wanted it all to end. I crawled over to the desk, lifting myself high enough to grab it before crumpling to the floor in pain. But all I could think, it will be over soon. All of the pain will be over soon. I lifted it up straight above my heart. _On the count of three_ , I kept telling myself.

_One_ , I could see the glint of moonlight shining off the letter opener.

_Two_ , I brought it down touching where my heart would be.

_Three_ , I cursed in my head because it was a fake letter opener and dropped it to the side, not only because it was fake, but also because I didn't need to stab myself. I could feel my bones were already breaking.  

_Crack_

I can hear the breaking of my bones, each one by one, blood rushing everywhere. All I could think is why couldn’t death be easy for me. It took hours, and the moon started to lower before the pain eased up. I looked down at myself hoping that I was a ghost, but knowing that I didn’t die just yet. I saw paws, giant black ones; I stood up and wobbled a bit. I was a lot taller than the desk, maybe about the same height as a horse. That's when I realized the obvious. Whatever my principal animal was going to be, it no longer was going to be. My main phasing animal was now a wolf. Damn it.

I looked out the window and saw that the wolves were starting to come back. Including the family. I needed to get out of there. I did the only thing I could think of, finding a new source of energy I jumped out the window crashing to the ground. It hurt, but I wanted out of there. I started to run towards the forest, I found my new speed and took off, clocking around a mile in four minutes with only two phrases in my head,

_"Goodbye, Alice and Annabelle Adams. You truly are soul guardians."_


	4. Mute by choice

I ran for a while, the sun coming out. I was thirsty, hungry, and just wanted to stop and rest, but I didn't. I kept going till I reached the edge of the Battle Ax forest where a driveway was visible. I stopped in front of a big bolder and collapsed onto the ground. I turned back into a human self without even realizing it. I looked down at my body; the cuts were slightly healed up but left dark scars wherever he bit or scratched or cut me, a token for life of last night and every other night I had to suffer.

Sighing, I scrambled up and slumped down on top of the bolder sighed again at that one thought that was stuck in my head. I'm free. But what's good at being free if I have no place to go. _No place like home_. I'm completely alone, and now, I would never know if there was another side to my story.

I brought out the jewelry box Alice had put in my pocket the day before. I wanted to open it, but at the same time, I was scared. Why? I have no idea, but I knew I wasn't ready to open it now. I looked down at myself and instantly regretted doing so. My short jean shorts were really damaged, my shirt was mostly ripped, and blood and dirt stained as well as my shirts and sneakers. Sighing, I clutched the small red wine jewelry box to my chest as I sat there staring straight ahead, emotionless and expressionless. I kept staring even when I heard a familiar sound coming from the left end of the driveway. A sound I hadn't heard in seven years.

The truck pulled over when its driver saw me sitting on the bolder. A man came out of the driver's seat and made his way to me.

"Hey, girl! What are you doing here all—" he cut himself off once he saw my appearance. "Shit, who has hurt you this much," he muttered under his breath as he approached me.

He stood in front of me and stared into my orange morning glory eyes with his ocean blue eyes. "Where are your parents?"

I felt my facial expression break as I shook my head. His eyes widened in shock. "They're de— gone?"

I nodded. He pursed his lips. "How long?"

Resting the small box between my legs, I shakily lifted my hands and showed him seven of my fingers. "Seven hours?"

I shook my head. "Seven days?"

I shook my head again and stretched my arms hoping he would understand. He gasped. "S-seven years?" he chocked out.

I nodded, looked down and started playing with the hem of my ripped shirt, timidly. "God, you must be freezing, here," he said, taking off his extremely large jumper and wrapping it around me. I stiffened when he picked me up and carried me to the truck, but slightly relaxed when he placed me in the passenger seat. He walked around the truck and settled in the driver's seat. We sat there in silence. I glanced at him sideways and saw him frowning at the steering wheel.

He took a deep breath and turned to look at me. "You're lost, aren't you?" he asked as I nodded.

"Alright," he murmured, nodding as well. "You don't have any other family nearby?" he asked. I shook my head. He nodded, frowning at the steering wheel once again as the silence came back for a few minutes.  

I took another deep breath. "You do have a name, right?" he asked cautiously as I nodded. He narrowed his eyes. "You're not gonna say it out loud, will you?" he guessed as I shook my head.

Sighing he searched in a bag I had just realized he had and brought out a stick and something flat. I stared at it in wonder; I hadn't held one of these in so long... 

"This is a pencil," he said, motioning the stick, "you write with it."

I nodded; of course, I knew what it was— I'm young, not stupid. I grabbed the pencil and paper and took a deep breath before writing,

" _Hello. My name is Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins. What is your name?_ " I handed him the paper for him to read.

He read it, sighed in relief before smiling softly down at me. "I'm Tom Brooks. How old are you?" I showed him nine of my fingers, and he nodded in reply.

I grabbed the paper and wrote, " _My whole family died in a fire seven years ago, and I have been lost here in the Battle Ax forest ever since,_ " before handing it back to him. I made sure to tell him that I got lost because I didn't want to go around saying that I was kidnapped and mistreated by a family of werewolves and risk getting thrown into those houses they have for mentally sick people.

He nodded and sighed. "I guess I'm gonna have to take you to the nearest orphanage," he said as he started to drive the car.

I looked at him curiously. Orphanage... that word sounded familiar, but I had no idea what it meant whatsoever. He seemed to get a hint, so he narrowed his eyes for a few seconds before replying.

"An orphanage is a place where kids your age and under, max sixteen years old, without families stay. It's a home for orphans." With that, we stayed silent for the rest of the way.

~~*~~

"Her lungs are scraped in a rather unusual way. I don't understand how, though it's nothing too serious," the doctor said, putting his medicine tools back inside his black suitcase.

"So she can talk," the owner of the orphanage said, trying to comprehend.

"Yes, she can talk. But my guess is that she chooses not to," the doctor replied. "Not the worst decision, though. It would be best for her not to, so her lungs heal much more quickly. Straining herself will only slow the process."

Nurse Angelica nodded. "I tried to give the girl a physical checkup, but I didn't manage to get very far because she went berserk when I merely tried to raise her shirt. I only got a glimpse for about a second, and I can tell you that whatever she went through, after her family passed away, it must've been really tough for her. Her body is full of fresh cuts and forming bruises as well as old ones," she said. They all turned to look at me, but I immediately averted my gaze away from them and glanced around the room we were in.

"Did you find out her name?" the owner of the orphanage asked.

They shook their heads. "I'm sorry Miss Jones, but we're out of luck with that as well," the doctor said. Just then, I spotted a small white board and a black marker at the other end of the room. I got up off my seat and stumbled over to it.

I uncapped the marker and wrote down on the board, " _Are you the owner of this place_?" Narrowing my eyes at it, I walked back to the three people who were staring at me and handed the board to the lady who was standing on the authoritarian side of the desk, whom I guessed was Miss Jones.

She took the board and read it before her face lit up as she smiled down at me. "Yes, sweetheart. I am the owner of this orphanage. Can you tell me your name?" she asked.

I nodded holding my hand out for the board. She handed it back to me, and I wrote, " _My name is Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins. What is your name?_ " before giving back to her.

She smiled brightly after reading it. "My name is Katherine Jones, but you can call Miss K., Miss Kathie, or Miss Jones," she said as I nodded trying to remember that for later on. "How old are you?" she asked. I showed her nine of my fingers, and she nodded.

I grabbed the board and wrote, " _My birth date is on December twenty-seventh_."

"You communicate quite properly; I'm impressed, Lilah," she said with a smile while I instantly stiffened. No one had ever called me that other than my mother who had called me that the last time I saw her, seven years ago.

Miss Kathie realized that, and her expression almost immediately turned apologetic. "Doctor Smith, nurse Angelica, if you would be so kind," she said, motioning towards the door. Both visitors nodded before exiting the room. Miss Kathie then turned to face me.

"I'm sorry Delilah," she apologized as I nodded. "You will be staying here for a while, get to know the other kids around here and get better while we find a family that will respond generously to your needs," she said. My eyes widened in shock as I quickly gripped the edge of her desk, sinking my nails in the wood while panicking internally.

Her eyes widened. "You don't want to go?" she asked in disbelief as I shook my head. Right now that I was in a safe place, I had no intention of leaving... at least till I was eighteen, but not now. I need time to heal from these past seven years. She took my small hand in hers and smiled at me.

"How about we make a deal," she proposed. I tilted my head to the side and looked at her curiously. "If a couple of parents want to adopt you, I'll keep you updated about it, and you can choose if you want to go with them or not. I know it might take a while for you to get better, so I think it's the best way for all of us, don't you think?"

I nodded in agreement as she smiled and squeezed my hand. "Deal?"

I grabbed the board and gave her my answer. " _Deal_."


	5. Best memory

I spent two years here. 

I know two people who remind a lot of Alice and Annabelle, I'm very close with them. Their names are Amelia who prefers being called Ami and Isabella, who prefers Bella. I don't consider any of them my friend yet because I still have a hard time trusting people, but even so I was less jumpy than I used to be. My ' _ADHD'_ has gone down a few notches.

Just like any other day, at twelve o'clock sharp, the phone rang and it was the end of our Thursday lessons. I left the room with Ami and Bella by my side, Jacob and Jonah trailing behind us.

"Hey, Lee-lee, do you want to come play soccer with us in the back yard?" Jonah asked.

"Yeah! You can be on our team," Jacob exclaimed himself, patting my shoulder. I shook my head.

"Awe, come on. Please?" Jonah pleaded.

"Guys, leave her alone. You know what time it is and what that means," Ami said.

"Yeah, we'll just all play soccer with her, tomorrow," Bella added. I nodded in agreement before waving at them then making my way towards my room.

My room was a small bare room with nothing in it except an old wooden wardrobe, a wooden bedstead, a wooden chair, a small empty wooden cabinet and a jacket hanger, but I was better than some rusty old spider-webbed attic. I was comfortable even if I didn't have many belongings. I only had a five black markers, my whiteboard which Miss Kathie had given me my first day, two pair of sneakers that were getting pretty old, two long-sleeved shirts, one t-shirt, one pair of cut off short jean shorts and one pair of regular jeans, a hoodie and a backpack, in total being eight pieces of clothing and only three extra items. I also still had that small red wine jewelry box Alice had given me. I still hadn't opened it, but it didn't matter. I still kept it preciously as if my own life depended on it.

As I sat down on my bed I clutched it to my chest and looked down at the book Ami had given about a week ago. I never read a book in my entire life. I was tempted to open it and start reading it, but I had to wait until it was a complete _'if not want then must'_ moment. So I simply stared at it and settled down with reading the title.

 _Dying inside,_ by Robert Silverberg.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and decided to familiarize myself more with the enhanced hearing I had gained two years ago. It was hard because every time I did, my whole life flashed before my eyes starting from the day I was born.

~*~

_I opened my eyes and gazed above me in wonder._

_Everything was so clear._

_Sharp. Defined._

_The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of the filaments inside that weird sphere shaped thing that hind from the ceiling. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the sphere, an eighth color I had no name for._

_I then heard the sound of the others that had been waiting for my arrival. I closed my eyes before reopening them and staring into another pair of eyes which were a strange orange color._

_"My beautiful baby girl," whispered a voice which now I had just realized was the owner of the eyes staring lovingly at me. I'm guessing he's my daddy. I pointed a small finger at him questioningly as he engulfed it with his big hand. "Yes, sweetheart. I'm daddy," he said, grinning._

_"Let me… Give her to me," said another voice coming from behind._

_The light danced, shattering off my daddy's tanned hands. The rays of light were tinged with red, with the blood that covered his skin. And more red in his hands. Afraid as to why he was covered in blood, I started struggling. He touched my warm body to a pair of weak arms, almost like they were holding me. My skin was wet and hot—hotter than my daddy's._

_My eyes focused; suddenly everything was absolutely clear._

_I did not cry, but I started breathing in quick, startled pants. My eyes were open wide since I was shocked and confused as to what was going on. I knew a lot of things, but not everything. I had no idea what I looked like or whom I looked like. Who was my mommy?_

_That question was answered as I averted my gaze from my daddy's eyes and stared back into a pair of a strange orange-pink begonia eyes. The woman before me was indescribably beautiful. Long light brown hair, fair pale skin, full pink lips, rosy cheeks and the perfect nose... it was as if God chose to make her look this special._

_"Delilah," she whispered. "So beautiful."_

_Delilah? Was that my name?_

_She smiled at me. "Yes, baby. You are Delilah. Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins," she whispered. Her eyes were hypnotizing, though at some point, as she looked at me lovingly, I thought her eyes flashed violet orchidee for a second before going back to being_ _orange-pink begonia._

_"Lilly," my daddy said. I looked up at him only to find him grinning down at me. "These are your brothers," he said._

_Noah, the eldest, looked a lot like him, just less muscular and shared my mommy's eyes. Jared, the second eldest, looked like them as well, except his skin and hair were paler and he had daddy's eyes. Trenton, the third eldest, looked more like a boy version of mommy and he had her eyes as well. There was another boy in the room..._

_He looked nothing like my siblings so he couldn't possibly be my brother, right?_

_His bright green eyes were locked on my face and mine on his. I realized his body had been shaking, but then has come to a stop once he looked at me._

_There was a shift in my own small body; heat flooding through me, but it was a strange kind of heat—not a burning._

_It was a glowing._

_Everything inside me came undone as I stared at the unknown boy's face. All the lines that held me to my new life were sliced apart in swift cuts, like clipping the strings to a bunch of balloons. Everything that made me who I just born to be—my hatred for any of my future enemies, my home, my name, my self—disconnected from me in that second—snip, snip, snip—and floated up into space._

_I was not left drifting. A new string held me where I was._

_Not one string, but a million. Not strings, but steel cables. A million steel cables all tying me to one thing—to the very center of the universe. I could see that— how the universe swirled around this one point. I’d never seen the symmetry of the universe before, but now it was plain._

_The gravity of the earth no longer tied me to the place where I stood._

_This boy did, as only one name came to my mind._

**_Chance_ ** _._

_And one word coming out of his lips was the only thing I needed to hear to know I was right._

_"Mate," he whispered, falling down on his knees, never taking his eyes off me..._


	6. Soul shifting witch

I opened my eyes, not wanting to remember the rest of my life that had been nothing but painful. Sighing, I laid down on my bed, and I grabbed my book and held it in front of my face.

I stared at it for a few seconds before dropping my hand at my side and letting it float a foot above my face as I resumed to clutching the small jewelry box against my chest. I focused my hearing on only the orphanage at first, before enclosing it on something that seemed to finally catch my attention.

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Miss Jones, who, I believe, is the matron here?" I heard a man ask.  

"Oh," Elise said, sounding bewildered... probably taking in the man's appearance. "Um… just a mo— MISS JONES!" she bellowed quite loudly.

"If someone's here for me, bring them in!" I heard Miss Kathie's shout back, probably from her office.

"Come in, her office is this way," Elise told the man. 

I could hear the man following Elise and stepping into the hallway tiled in black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean.

"… no I'm sorry, but she cannot be adopted at the mome— no, I know that nothing seems wrong with her but— Mrs. Thomson, understand that this girl— her name is Delilah— she's had a really tough life... alright, we shall see further on," she said to the phone before she fell silent. "Um... Mrs. Thomson, I-I'll call you back later," she mumbled hanging up before the person on the other line could even object.

"Good afternoon," said the man, and by the silence, I'm guessing Miss Kathie is simply gaping at him.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment, and you very kindly invited me here today."

After a few seconds of apparently deciding that the Dumbledore man was not a hallucination, she said feebly, "Oh yes. Well— well then— you’d better take a seat— Elise, please close the door." With that, the door of Miss Kathie's office was closed, but that made no difference to me— I can still hear them as clear as crystal. I kept staring at the floating book while listening carefully to the conversation. Can't really call it eavesdropping if it's about me.

"I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss Delilah Hawkins and arrangements for her future," said Dumbledore.

"Are you family?" Miss Kathie asked cautiously.

"No, I am a teacher," he replied. "I have come to offer Delilah a place at my school."

"What school’s this, then?"

"It is called Hogwarts," said Dumbledore. 

Hogwarts? Why did that ring a bell?

"And how come you’re interested in Delilah?"

"We believe she has qualities we are looking for."  

"You mean she’s won a scholarship? How can she have done? She’s never been entered for one."

"Well, her name has been down for our school since birth—"

"Who registered her? Her parents? How is that possible? Her parents died ten years ago, and she was lost in the woods for seven years! How can you know it's her? Are you sure she's the one you've come for?"

"Here," said Dumbledore. "I think this will make everything clear."

I frowned, wanting to know more of what was going on. My book flew up and hit the ceiling before falling back down. It was about to hit my face, but I instantly refocused on it making it float two feet above my face again.

"That seems perfectly in order," she answered coldly.

There was a pause. "Er— may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice. Gin? What on earth is that?

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore.

Pouring both of them a generous measure of whatever _gin_ is, she drained her own glass in one gulp. Dumbledore probably saw that as an advantage.

"I was wondering whether you could tell me anything of Delilah Hawkins' history?"

She sighed loudly. "I wish I knew, but ever since she came here, she never spoke a word about it— in fact, she never ever spoke a word."

"Is she mute?" Dumbledore asked. I groaned— just because I don't speak doesn't mean I'm mute.

"No. It's just that whatever happened to her after her parents died must've been really rough for a young girl like her to handle. When she got here, the only emotions she would show would be shock, curiosity, confusion or panic, but other than that, nothing. She doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, doesn't speak... she's the quietest and most calm child in this orphanage. It's surprising how even if she barely shows emotions or doesn't talk, she manages to change everyone. She's a good kid."

"Did she tell you her parents died?"

"No. When she got here, she saw the little whiteboard and the black marker I always kept in the corner of my office and wrote it down along with her name. It's the only thing she uses to communicate with everyone," Miss Kathie replied.

There was a moment of silence before Miss Kathie spoke again.

"She's a good kid. Funny girl, but good," she said.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I thought she might be."

"I always wonder what she was like when she was a baby. She's a really strong girl. She hardly ever cried— actually she never cried, you know. And now that  she's getting a little older, she's... becoming... odd."

I frowned.

"Odd in what way?" asked Dumbledore gently.

"Well, she—"

But Miss Kathie pulled up short and then sighed. "I just hope she does have a place at your school... but let's just hope she agrees to go," she said, muttering the last few words to herself as if wanting otherwise.

There was another pause. "She’s definitely got a place at your school, you say?"

"Definitely," said Dumbledore.  

"And nothing I say can change that?"  

"Nothing," Dumbledore replied.

"You’ll be taking her away, whatever?" she asked, her voice breaking at the end.

"Whatever," repeated Dumbledore gravely.

She stayed silent for a few more seconds as though deciding whether or not to trust him. Apparently, she decided she could, because she sighed and said in a sudden rush, "B-but she cares so much about the other children. She acts almost as if she was their mother, even towards those who are older than her."

"You really love her, don't you?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"As if she were my own," Miss Kathie whispered, and I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty as I stared at the book floating above me.

I could hear her now crying. "I-I just know everyone is going to miss her just as much..."

"You understand, I’m sure, that we will not be keeping her permanently?" said Dumbledore.

"She'll be coming back?" Miss Kathie asked, sounding hopeful.

Dumbledore sighed. "That will be her decision. Her parents had a house near the school that is now under her name."

"Oh," was all Miss Kathie replied.

"But if she wants to, she will be able to return here, at the very least, through the summer."

Miss Kathie squealed before slamming a hand against her mouth. "Sorry," she said quickly as Dumbledore chuckled. 

She then sighed. "I suppose you’d like to see her?"

"Very much," said Dumbledore.

I heard the leave the office and making their way up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as they passed by.

"Here we are," said Miss Kathie, as they stood on the other side of my door.

She knocked three before saying, "Deli? You have a visitor."

" _Let him in_ ," I whispered into her mind. She was the only who knew about the abnormal things I can do, though she doesn't know about me being a soul shifter in which I've gone as far as phasing into a black wolf and a black fox.

I didn't look away from my floating book as the man entered my room and then Miss Kathie closed it right behind him.

"How do you do, Delilah?” said Dumbledore, walking forward and holding out his hand. I slowly let my book fly away and land with a soft 'thump' on the wooden cabinet before sitting up. I stared at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing what to do.

I looked up at the man questioningly. He smiled. "You grab my hand with your right one, and you shake it," he said softly.

I slightly hesitated, then took it, and we shook hands. Dumbledore drew up the hard wooden chair beside me so that the pair of us looked rather like a hospital patient and visitor. The sight was creepy and uncomfortable in my head, but I dealt with it.

"I am Professor Dumbledore." I tilted my head to the side and gave him a _'why are you here'_ look.  

"I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school— your new school if you would like to come."

" _Hogwarts? Why does it sound... familiar?_ " I sent the question into his mind, and his bright blue eyes showed a small twinkle in them as his face lit up. I looked down at my hands, frowning.

" _Your grandmother and your parents might have mentioned it a few times_ ," a voice echoed through my head. My eyes widened in shock as I looked up at him only to find him smiling at me.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore started. "Is a school for people with special abilities— It is a school of magic."  

My eyes widened in shock as I gasped for the first time in forever. " _Magic_?"

"That’s right," said Dumbledore, smiling at me.

" _Are you like me? It is… is it magic; what I can do?_ "

"What is it that you can do?"

" _All sorts_ ," I thought to him. A flush of excitement was rising up my neck into my cheeks. " _I can make filings move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can... bring certain things back to life. I can do a lot of other things, like right now. I am talking to you through my head... telepathically_."

My arms trembling, I pushed myself forward, closer to the old man, staring down at my small red wine jewelry box, my head bowed as though in prayer.

" _I knew I was different_ ," I thought as I played with the lid of the jewelry box. " _Always, I knew there was something other than me being_ —"

"A soul shifter?"

I blinked, my eyes widening surprised. " _You know?_ "

He nodded. "Well, you were quite right there is something else," he said, watching me intently. "You are a witch."        

" _If I am a witch, does that make you a wizard?_ "

"Yes, I am."  

" _Can you tell me more about... Hogwarts?_ "

He beamed at me. "At Hogwarts," Dumbledore started. "We teach you not only to use magic but to control it. You have— inadvertently, I am sure— been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic— yes, there is a Ministry— will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."  

" _If... I go; where will I stay?_ "

"Well, Hogwarts, of course, is in Europe; however your father and mother, who have attended the school back on their young years, owned a house there which is now under your name. Your name has been down for Hogwarts ever since your birth… Exactly eleven years to the date if I am correct?" he said kindly.

I nodded. " _I will be turning twelve in December_."

He smiled. "Would you like to attend Hogwarts, Delilah?"

I thought this through. I have had a really rough life up till now and have been trying to avoid anything that had to do with my past, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to be on my own again. At least I won't be a burden on anyone. At least I'll be free to discover all there is to know on my kind.

I looked up at the old man and nodded as he smiled. "I will have a favor to ask you further on, but for now, I am guessing you would like to see your home," he said.

I couldn't help but sigh, alleviated at the thought of having my own home. I held up a finger for him to wait and quickly grabbed a notebook from the wooden cabinet and grabbed the pen that lay beside it.

I ripped a page out of it, uncapped the pen and wrote,

" _Dear family from the orphanage,_

_I am sorry that I am leaving without a proper goodbye, but it is necessary. I have to go where I have decided to go in order to find out things from my past I never really knew. I do not know when, I do not know how, but I promise that one day I will come back. In exchange of that promise, you promise me something as well._

_Promise me, you'll never forget me._

_Yours truly,_

_Delilah Hawkins._ "

With that written, I lay the letter on my bed, I telekinetically put all my belongings into my bag, including the jewelry box and the book and went to stand beside Dumbledore who was now standing by the door.

He smiled down at me. "Are you ready to go, Delilah?" 

I nodded, narrowing my eyes, not really sure how we were going to get there if the school and my house was in Europe.

"Right, then. Delilah, if you will grasp my arm, we will shortly Apparate." I tilted my head to the side and looked at him curiously.

" _Apparate_?"

"Apparition is a mode of transportation most wizards use to swiftly get from one place to another. Unfortunately, it is very uncomfortable, especially the first time, so I suggest you close your eyes," he said.

I did as he said, closing my eyes, and with that, we were off.

~~*~~

Dumbledore wasn’t kidding, apparition was... well it sucked, big time. I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy, but I didn’t throw up. Not that there was anything to show again, I had barely eaten when I was with the Adams, and even though I tried to eat more at the orphanage, my stomach just wouldn't let it all in. My portions remained seriously small. Thank god, I wasn't anorexic, but I was really thin. At least I was pretty built thanks to my being a shifter.

I opened my eyes and stared into the violet dark of the night. There, nestled into a small clearing in a forest, that seemed to not be so far from a town, was a tiny stone cottage, lavender gray in the light of the stars.

It belonged here so absolutely that it seemed as if it must have grown from the rock, a natural formation. Honeysuckle climbed up one wall like a lattice, winding up and over the thick wooden shingles. Late summer roses bloomed in a handkerchief-sized garden under the dark, deep-set windows. There was a little path of flat stones, amethyst in the night that led up to the quaint arched wooden door.

" _Whoa_ ," I thought, looking at it in complete awe.

"Do you like it?" he asked, gazing down at me in wonder. I looked up and nodded eagerly as he chuckled.

He handed me a key and held his hand out toward the doorknob, waiting for me to do the honors. I took a deep breath before sticking the key in the lock and turning it then letting go, not sure if I deserved this.

Dumbledore chuckled then opened the door—it fell back with a barely audible creak—and stepped through into the little stone living room.

The cottage room was something from a fairy tale. The floor was a crazy quilt of smooth, flat stones. The low ceiling had long exposed beams that someone with a height of six feet and seven inches would surely knock their head on. The walls were warm wood in some places, stone mosaics in others. The beehive fireplace in the corner held the remains of a slow flickering fire. It was driftwood burning there—the low flames were blue and green from the salt.

It was furnished in eclectic pieces, not one of them matching another, but harmonious just the same. One chair seemed vaguely medieval, while a low ottoman by the fire was more contemporary and the stocked bookshelf against the far window reminded me of movies set in Italy. Somehow each piece fit together with the others like a big three- dimensional puzzle. 

There were a few paintings on the walls that I recognized—some of my very favorites from my parents at our big old house. Priceless originals, no doubt, but they seemed to belong here, too, like all the rest. It was a place where anyone could believe magic existed— never mind, where anyone would _know_ magic existed.

We settled down on a sofa near the fireplace in the living room.

" _So... what more is there to know about my... choice?_ "

"Well, firstly, you should know that we are presently in London," my eyes widened in shock as he said that. "Yes, since we are severely late at everything that is why we will be going to buy all of your stuff for school tomorrow since you are starting in two weeks."

I merely nodded but then I remembered the most important thing we need when there is something to buy. " _I do not have any money_."

"Don't worry about that," he said, gently patting my shoulder. "Your parents didn't leave with nothing. They were always prepared, just in case," he reassured me as I nodded.

" _Where do you buy spellbooks_?"

"In Diagon Alley," he replied.

" _Diagon... **ally**?_ "

He chuckled. "Diagon _Alley_ ," he correted. "I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything—"  

I looked up at him. " _You are coming with me_?"

"Certainly, if you would like me to." 

I nodded as he smiled at my response. " _So how about that favor?_ "

He narrowed his eyes. "Eleven years ago, a woman named Lilly Potter gave birth to a boy named Harry Potter, now known as _'The boy who_ lived,'" he started, making me raise an eyebrow. Where was he going with this? "At the age of two, his parents, Lilly and James Potter, and Harry were attacked by a dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort." 

I nodded, understanding the gist of it, but still uncertain of what it had to do with the favor he had yet to ask me.  

He sighed. "Do you know how your great grandparents died, Delilah?"

I shook my head. I was there, but I couldn't remember what happened the night they were killed. Every time I tried to remember, all I could see is a blurry vision surrounded by a green light. 

"Voldemort killed them, and you, just like Harry, survived. The only difference is that you didn't become a Horcrux; you simply gained more power becoming the most famous and most powerful witch in the History of witchcraft and wizardry." 

So... I'm famous... and powerful? But... _what on earth is a Horcrux?_

He smiled at me. "A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." I tilted my head to the side, not fully understanding. "Well, the way it works is quite simple yet complicated. You split your soul, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form... few would want it, in other words—"

" _Lord Voldemort_."

He nodded. " _But how do you know that this Harry kid is a Horcrux_?" I thought.

"The night Voldemort attacked and left Harry alive, the only sign that lets you know you are standing in front of the 'The boy who lived' is the lightning bolt scar on his forehead which is quite similar to the one on the left side of your neck."

I nodded. " _So what do you want me to do_?"

He smiled. "Harry will start attending Hogwarts this year as well since he has just turned eleven. I want you to be his... _Curatoria,_ " he said.

I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. Heck, this will be my chance to prove myself of being a true alpha, not by ordering around, but by looking after others and keeping them safe. So, I finally decided myself. 

" _I will protect him with my life, Professor Dumbledore_ ," I thought to him, nodding.  

~~*~~

We were on a train and I was practically shaking nervously, worried and wondering what Hogwarts would be like until Dumbledore spoke up.

"Do you still have your letter, Delilah?" he asked as I nodded in response.

"Good," he said. "Your list of school supplies is enclosed in it."

Curiously, I unfolded the second piece of paper I hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

**First-year students will require:**

**Uniform**

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

**Please note that all student's clothes should carry name-tags at all times.**

**Books**

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

**Other Equipment**

1 Wand

1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an Owl or a Cat or a Toad.

**PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.**

I pouted as I read the last sentence. I heard Dumbledore chuckle from beside me. I looked up at him and looked at him curiously.

I narrowed my eyes and finally decided I should just let it out of my chest. " _May I call you Grandpa D?_ " I thought as I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

He chuckled once again before nodding. "Yes, you may." 

I nodded and slightly relaxed as the rest of our little journey went pretty silent.

The way to Diagon Alley was really... something else, but the place itself was even better. There was everything you could ever need, but Grandpa D. and I first went straight to Gringotts; turns out, I was super-rich. Apparently, I was more special than I thought I was; my wand was a beautiful golden color, and it was made of two different types of wood; Hawthorn and Blackthorn. Its length was of thirteen and two-quarter inches, and it was made with phoenix feather, unicorn hair, wolf tail hair (which truthfully made me feel kind of uneasy, actually), Thesthral tail hair and dragon heartstring; one of a kind and reasonably supple. According to Mr. Ollivander, its seller, it’s quite a picky wand, rare and not easy to wield. He said it worked perfectly, mostly well in healing and bedeviling, but, if it were to be treated wrongly, the charms would most certainly backfire.

Grandpa D. then promised me he would try to get me a broomstick, if possible the model Nimbus two thousand, as we got a black cauldron and everything else I needed.

I had gone to try on some robes while Grandpa D. went to the pet store to buy me a pet. Once I was done and went to pay for my uniform, I saw him waiting outside for me. I joined him and couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open.

He got me a beautiful white phoenix that kept changing colors. I named it Atlas, the name of the Greek God that carries the sky on his back. And even though I didn't smile, I had to admit that this was the first happiest day I've had since before my life became hell.


	7. The journey from platform nine and three-quarters

My two last weeks at my new home went by quite quickly. Grandpa D. came to visit me every day and told me a bit more about my history, Harry's as well as the history of magic. He even trusted me with the guarding of the philosopher stone created by an old friend of his named Nicolas Flamel. I had to make sure nobody found out about it, and that no one tried to steal it or got to it. It was a lot of work for an eleven-year-old girl, but no for a future alpha...

My room. It was amazingly big. It had a bed that was extremely huge and white, with clouds of gossamer floating down from the canopy to the floor. The pale wood floor matched the other rooms, and now I grasped that it was precisely the color of a pristine beach. A color that I loved dearly because of my grandmother. The walls were that almost-white-blue of a brilliantly sunny day and the back wall had big glass doors that opened into a little hidden garden— climbing roses and a small round pond, smooth as a mirror and edged with shiny stones. 

A tiny, calm ocean for me.

Many times throughout the week, Grandpa D. showed me how to get to the platform nine and three-quarters so I wouldn't get lost. He even gave me a parchment with the names of all the teachers that would be teaching at Hogwarts and all the other employees. The only one I've met up till now is Hagrid, and I personally think he's a good man. When I was left alone, I have to admit that I did feel quite lonely, but I was relieved, in a way, because even though I had spent two years at the orphanage, I still wasn't used to so many people around me. That's pretty much the main reason why I was nervous about how Hogwarts will turn out. I mean it was already bad enough that a lot of people knew me back at Diagon Alley, now imagine a school with over a thousand students!

On September first, as I reached King's Cross at half past ten, it took me a while to get to the barrier without freaking out. Once I finally reached it, I took a few deep breaths and closed my eyes before running towards it. I kept expecting myself to run to it and end up crashing, but of course, none of that happened. I just kept on running.

I opened my eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. I looked behind me and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, I nodded and sighed in relief. Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

I pushed my cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. I passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," I heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

With a shudder running down my back, I pressed on through the crowd until I found an empty compartment near the end of the train. I put Atlas inside first and then shoved my trunk toward the train door. I lifted it up the steps with ease and tucked it away in the corner of the compartment letting out another sigh.

With a last look around, I entered the compartment, grabbed all my hair and tied it to my right side, not caring whatsoever that I was all but exposing the scar on the left side of my neck; I would hide it otherwise to not bring attention to myself, but I was too lazy to untie it now, so I left it like that. With a small huff, I sat down next to the window where, half-hidden, I could watch the families on the platform and hear what they were saying. Shaking my head, I brought my book out of my shoulder bag and finally started reading it.

As I reached the page one hundred and sixty-five, the door of the compartment suddenly slid open, and someone came in. I didn't look up though; I just kept on reading.

Someone cleared their throat. "Um... can I sit here?" the boy asked as I nodded, still not looking up. He sighed in relief and came to sit beside me, putting his owl on his other side. 

We sat there in silence, him looking around the compartment, and me reading my book.

"Um... hi," he started in a quivering voice, though I still didn't look up. I simply frowned at the page I was now reading again for the fifth time since he got here. "My name is Harry. Harry Potter." 

I blinked, then slowly tore my gaze from my book and peered up to look at the boy I was supposed to be protecting the moment school starts.  

Harry Potter. The boy was small... but then again, I was freakishly tall for my age, so I guess I had no right to judge. 

He had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and... bright green eyes. He wore a pair of oversized jeans, a grey t-shirt and an oversized long-sleeved button-up shirt over it. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of... Scotch tape, and sure enough, he did have a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. As I was studying him closely, I felt my cheeks burn as I realized he was staring at _my_ scar.

His eyes widened as he looked up into my eyes. "You're Delilah Hawkins?" he asked. I nodded before quickly looking back down at my book as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. Why did he have to have the same eyes? Remembering my scar was all too visible to anyone who walked by, I untied my hair and let it fall down, passing my shoulders before resuming my reading.

Telekinetically, I got my white board and black marker out of my bag, softly landing them on my lap, just in case someone else asked me more questions. One thing I already liked about my... client, was that he didn't hover. After knowing my name, he didn't ask any more questions.

After a few more minutes passed, the door of the compartment slid open once again, and the young redheaded boy came in. I didn't look up, but I could tell he was since I _had_ cast him a sideways glance when he opened the door.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head, but then glanced at me as if waiting to see if I would either approve or oppose. I shook my head, and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and me and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. I cast him another sideways glance and saw that he had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

Two twins were standing by the door of the compartment.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train— Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then"

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

I then felt both pairs of eyes on me. I tensed up while telekinetically moving my marker against my board and writing down my name. I then lifted it and showed it to them.

"Wicked," Ron whispered as I saw Harry nod in agreement before my board landed back on my lap and my marker recapped itself before landing on top of the board. I couldn't concentrate on my reading anymore, so I put my book back into my bag and settled with looking out the window.

"Oh— well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got— you know..."

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who..."

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well— I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

I looked back at him with wide eyes and quickly uncapped my marker once again. " _A green light?_ " I wrote before showing it to him. He read it and so did Ron as he nodded.

"Wow," said Ron. 

He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again with a thinking expression on his face before looking back at me. I was staring at him the whole time with a raised eyebrow before averting my gaze down at my board, erasing what I had written.

"D-Delilah?" he asked hesitantly. I looked up, raising my eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. "Have you also got— you know..."

He pointed at my neck. I snorted humorlessly before pulling my hair away from my neck, exposing my scar. Both Harry's and Ron's eyes widened as they both said, "Whoa," at the same time. Leaving it like that, I looked away, sighed and rested my head against the window, closing my eyes.

**Harry's P.O.V.**

"D-Delilah?" Ron asked hesitantly. She looked up, raising her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. "Have you also got— you know..."

He pointed at her neck. She snorted humorlessly before pulling her hair away from her neck, exposing her scar. Both mine and Ron's eyes widened as we both said, "Whoa," at the same time. Leaving it like that, she looked away, sighed and rested her head against the window, closing her eyes.

I couldn't help but stare at her beautiful figure. Hagrid had told me she wouldn't speak, but I hadn't thought he was serious. Even so, I was relieved that she didn't go all over the place when I told her who I was. I guess it's because we're pretty much in the same position— orphans who survived the killing curse, though I'm guessing she went through a lot more than I have considering she chooses not to speak, to laugh or to smile. And I've been told that she never cried.

Other than her not talking or smiling, she was extremely beautiful.  

She had a thin face, long legs, pale russet skin, jet black, highlighted with light brown wavy hair that was a little longer than shoulder length and easily fell like long silky curtains, and the rarest orange-pink morning glory-begonian eyes. She wore an old pair of washed-out jeans, a white t-shirt over and a black long-sleeved shirt. She had her shoulder bag lying on the floor by her feet on which was neatly folded an oversized black hoodie. And not to forget the very thin scar on the left side of her neck that was also shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Shaking my head as if to clear up my mind, I looked away from the beautiful figure and looked up at Ron who had been staring at her as well with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

"She's _really_ pretty," he whispered, looking up at me as I nodded. "Why do you think she doesn't talk?"

"I dunno... though I really want to find out," I admitted.

"Me too," he agreed, nodding while turning to look at her again curiously. Thinking it'd be best to change the subject, I cleared my throat to gain back his attention.

"Are all your family wizards?" I asked, realizing that I actually found Ron just as interesting as Ron found us.

"Er— Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible— well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left— Bill was head boy, and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks, and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers, and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff— I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much because he went back to staring out of the window. I didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, I'd never had any money in my life until a month ago, and I told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer him up.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort."

Ron gasped.

"What?" I asked.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people—"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," I said. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn... I bet," I added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying me a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families, and they learn quick enough."

While we had been talking, the train had carried us out of London. Now we were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. We were quiet for a time, him watching the fields and lanes flick past... while I was watching Delilah who was now staring out the window in wonder.

Around half past twelve, there was a great clattering outside in the corridor, and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back our door and said,

"Anything off the cart, dears?"

I hadn't had any breakfast, so I leaped to my feet, but Ron's ears went pink again, and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. I went out into the corridor.

I had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that I had pockets rattling with gold and silver I was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as I could carry— but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things I had never seen in my life. Not wanting to miss anything, I got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts. Delilah bought three chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes and licorice wands and literally ran back to her seat.

Ron stared as I brought all my sweets back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," I replied, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," I said, holding up a pasty. "Go on—"

"You don't want this; it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," I insisted. I had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating our way through all my pasties, cakes, and candies.

I looked over at Delilah and saw that she only ate one licorice wand. She looked up at us and held out the rest of her sweets to us.

"You don't want it?" Ron asked. 

She shook her head and lay her sweets on top of my pile. I smiled at her, and she merely nodded before looking back out the window.

I saw a weird looking pack on my pile and grabbed it. "What are these?" I asked Ron, holding it up. Chocolate Frogs was written on the cover.

"They're not really frogs, are they?" I was starting to feel that nothing would surprise me.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know— Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect— famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

I unwrapped my Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" I exclaimed myself.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa— thanks."

I turned over my card and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORECURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

I turned the card back over and saw, to my astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again, and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," I told him. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "weird!"

I stared as Dumbledore veered back into the picture on my card and gave me a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but I couldn't keep my eyes off them. Soon I had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. I finally tore my eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned me. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor— you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger-flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. "Bleaaargh— see? Sprouts."

We had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. I got toast, coconut, baked bean, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end of a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

Delilah snorted and took the bag from my hands. She shook it before grabbing a handful. She narrowed her eyes at the beans in her hands, and then the next thing I knew, a great quantity from the ones she had been holding were floating their way towards Ron and me.

Brown, purple, blue, white and red beans dropped onto our hands as she put the rest back into the bag after popping a red one into her mouth. We stared at her wide-eyed. What was her intention?

I popped one of the brown beans into my mouth and couldn't help but smile as I tasted the chocolate flavor in my mouth. Ron popped about four red ones into his mouth and grinned.

"Strawberry! Thanks, Delilah!" he exclaimed himself as we both grinned. She looked at us amused before bringing two fingers to her forehead and saluted us like a solder, making Ron, and I laugh.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of our compartment, and the round-faced boy I had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

Ron and I shook our heads, and we all three looked up at Delilah who shook her head as well.

He then wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," I reassured him.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..." He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk.” The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died, and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places, and something white was glinting at the end. I gave a sideways glance at Delilah and saw that she was gazing at Ron curiously, tilting her head to the side.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway..."

He had just raised his 'wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er— all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep. Delilah looked down at her hands, coughing lowly. I think she was trying not to laugh... though I would like to hear what her laugh would sound like.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice, and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough— I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you."

She said all this very fast.

I looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," I said.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course— I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

"Am I?" I asked, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..." she trailed off as she finally noticed Delilah sitting right next to me.

"Who are you?" she asked her curiously. With an unreadable expression on her face, Delilah grabbed her whiteboard and held it up for Hermione to read. As she read the name, her eyes widened in shock, practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Y-you're D-Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins?" she stammered. Whoa, that's a really long name. Delilah nodded grabbed her board, erased what was written and wrote,

" _Yes, that is my name. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger_."

Hermione nodded quickly, blushing before... bowing? She then shook her head before saying, "A-anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell— George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" I asked.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol—, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," I said, trying to take Ron's mind off houses. "So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles— someone tried to rob a high-security vault."

I stared. "Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

I turned this news over in my mind. I was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. I supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er— I don't know any," I confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world—" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking me through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and I recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at me with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," I said. I was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where I was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to me. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake mine, but I didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," I said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Ron and I stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," I said, more bravely than I felt because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than Ron or me.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

They were about to step forward but someone else pushed Ron and I back. Delilah was standing between us facing the three boys with crossed arms.

"A-and you are?" Malfoy asked, slightly blushing as he looked at her in awe. She glared path him, then groaned before pulling her hair back and showing them her scar.

The three boys' eyes widened in shock. "Y-you're D-Delilah—" she cut him off by pointing a finger towards the door furiously.

Goyle, who was completely ignoring the situation, reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron— Ron leaped forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers, the rat, was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle— Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once.

Perhaps they thought more rats were lurking among the sweets, or maybe they'd heard footsteps because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to me. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No— I don't believe it— he's gone back to sleep!"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

I explained about our meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right— I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. I peered out of the window. It was getting dark. I could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down, but then I just realized something. Delilah was still standing in front of us. She put a hand on my chest and another one on Ron's and gently pushed us down into our seats so she could go to hers. She bent down and to grab her shoulder bag, and as she looked back up, something squeaked. That was when I realized there was another cage here. I looked at it and couldn't help but gasp as I saw her petting a... phoenix. It was amazingly beautiful.

She looked back at us, grabbed her board and scribbled on it. She held it up, and we read,

" _I'm going to go change; you should too. Please keep an eye on Atlas, my phoenix_." We nodded, and with that, she left but not before giving Ron a folded piece of paper.

Once the door of the compartment closed behind her, Ron and I shared a confused look. He unfolded the piece of paper, and his brows furrowed slightly, seemingly puzzled. He then got his wand out and pointed it at his rat.

" _A canus ut flavus tu numquid rursus, aspectus melius, aspectus specialis, quod non malum_ ," **(From grey to yellow you shall turn, look better, look special, that won't hurt)** he said while waving his wand and just as he did, the rat turned a golden yellow and looked more fit.

Our mouths dropped open as we stared at it in shock. We looked up at each other and said, "Whoa," completely dazed.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

As soon as I was done putting on my uniform, I slowly made my way back to my compartment, trying to avoid anyone on the way. Once I reached the door, I knocked three times to make sure they were already changed.

"We're done," Ron said. I nodded and entered the compartment, closing the door behind me.

Just as I took my seat by the window, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

My stomach lurched with nerves and Harry seemed just as nervous while Ron, I saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and before we joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. From the corner of my eye I saw Harry shiver from the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and I heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"Hello there, Delilah," he said to me with a warm smile as I waved hello at him.

"C'mon, follow me— any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling and me walking casually, we followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that I thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron headed towards a boat and I trailed behind hesitantly. Harry turned to look at me and smiled. He grabbed my hand and helped me onto the boat before I could even ask if I could go with them. Ron grinned as he saw me settle in, but as soon as his grin came, it faded as we saw Hermione join us. She smiled at Harry, smiled even brighter at me as I just nodded in approval, then she glared at Ron.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then— FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. We were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then we all clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	8. The sorting hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face, and I guessed that she must be Professor McGonagall.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit a whole pack of werewolves in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right— the rest of the school must already be here— but Professor McGonagall showed us, first years, into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than we would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. I turned to Neville and arranged his cloak. Then, I turned to Ron and cleaned the smudge off his nose with the sleeve of my robe before finally turning to Harry and fixing his hair. They all blushed a bit after I was done before smiling shyly at me as I nodded.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

I shook my head, amused by everything the twins said to Ron who always easily believed them. I mean really, a test? In front of the whole school? Please! Not everyone knows magic yet. Just like with the spell they had given him I was sure they were kidding him. I watched him carefully as he looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned and wondering which one she'd need. That was when I remembered something. Harry's glasses were still held by scotch tape.

I sighed and tapped lightly on his shoulder. He turned around to look at me, and I pretty much took him off guard by just snatching his glasses off. I examined it carefully and uncomfortably as I felt him looking at me... or trying to, at least; heard he's utterly blind without his glasses.

I narrowed my eyes at the round glasses and thought the spell in my mind. " _Oculus Reparo_."

With that, I put his glasses back on and nodded, admiring my work of art. He blinked back a few times in shock before grinning. Then something happened that made us jump about a foot in the air— several people behind us screamed.

"What the—" He gasped. So did the people around us. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name, and you know, he's not even a ghost— I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at us. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told us, "and follow me."

Feeling odd as though my legs had turned to lead, with Ron behind a boy with sandy hair, and Harry behind him, I got in line behind my _'client,'_ and we all walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

I had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, I looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. 

I heard Hermione whisper to me, "It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History." I simply nodded even though I already knew that since grandpa D. had already told me about it. It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

I quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. If my grandmother were still alive, she wouldn't have let it in the house.

The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth— and the hat began to sing: 

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on, and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_  

_might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_ "

I blinked as the whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song; I'd ask how _somehow_ everyone knew the song, but this is a school of wizardry, so...

The hat then bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Again... I'd ask, but this is just too weird for me still to wonder about.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. "I'll kill Fred; he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly, and I nodded, assessing the moment. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but I did wish we could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking quite a lot; I didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for me.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; I could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was my imagination, after all, I'd heard about Slytherin, but I thought they looked like an unpleasant lot.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, I noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to me in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck I, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if I wasn't chosen at all for what I am? What if I just sat there with the hat over my eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off my head and said there had obviously been a mistake and I'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon."

"Nott."

"Parkinson," then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last— 

"Potter, Harry!" As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. I straightened up my posture and narrowed my eyes as I drowned out all the other noises in the room and concentrated only on what the hat would say next.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Ugh, shut people! Let me listen.

"Hmm," said a small voice, the hat I'm guessing. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes— and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Harry gripped the edges of the stool.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that— no? Well, if you're sure— better be GRYFFINDOR!"

I heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall and then suddenly the whole Gryffindor tabled erupted in the loudest cheer yet as Harry joined them. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down, and the entire Great Hall fell silent as it was time to say the last name on the list.

"Hawkins, Delilah!"

The crowd was dead silent... almost as silent as me. 

I didn't care much for what anyone may be thinking, but I was caught on the 'why in Tartarus did my name come out far after Harry, even?' Maybe it was due to the uncertainty of me attending the school at all as I was nowhere under their radar for nearly the whole of the past decade. I dunno.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, staring straight ahead of me as whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Hawkins, did she say?"

" _The_ Delilah Keren Aleah Hawkins?"

"That's a long name."

"She's hot."

"She's a first year!"

"Doesn't look like one..."

I tried my best to ignore the comments, especially the three last ones.

The last thing I saw before the hat dropped over my eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at me. Next second I was looking at the black inside of the hat. I waited.

"My dear, your mind is full of wonderful things... you are very powerful, yes, with and without a wand, and with a broom," the hat started.  I frowned in confusion. Why is he telling what pretty much everyone has been telling me for the past two weeks?

"You are very, very smart, aren't you? And quite the sass you have, and that comes with an attitude, with slyness, so you've definitely got Slytherin in you. But the such underestimated intelligence you have... casting a spell with ease similar to blinking... it's so easy for you that you can be in Ravenclaw. You are loyal and a very good friend which fits well in a Hufflepuff. But there is also courage. You are very, very brave and you have hidden powers, but you will have to find that out by yourself. So, where to put you err..."

There was a pause before the hat spoke again. "Gryhuffravlyth," the hat said, louder this time. Puzzled, I turned to give grandpa D. a questioning look.

He frowned as well. "Sorting hat, pick _a_ house."

"I have. 'Gry' for **Gry** ffindor, 'Huff' for **Huff** lepuff, 'Rav' for **Rav** enclaw and 'Lyth' for S **lyth** erin. There. I picked a house for her." I was getting more and more confused so I glanced up at Professor McGonagall with the same questioning look. She shook her head with the same confused expression on her face.  

"PICK A PROPER HOUSE, SORTING HAT!" Grandpa D.'s voice boomed loudly throughout the hall.  

"I need more time to figure this young one out," Mister hat replied.  

" _Mister, eh?_ " said a voice inside my head. I instantly knew it belonged to then hat on my head.

" _What else do you expect me to call you? I am not mean enough to simply call you the hat_ ," I replied in my head.

" _Hmmm..._ "

" _So... why is it so hard to choose a house for me, again?_ "

"You carry the blood of an Alpha, Delilah. You possess the qualities of each house, but it's hard to choose one in particular because of you being an Alpha. Alphas don't like to have decisions made for them. It is against _every_ natural law," he murmured, using my own words from ten years ago.

I narrowed my eyes. " _Can I not choose?_ " Mister hat went silent, again. I almost fell off the stool when he laughed in victory. As if he had just made the biggest discovery of the century.

"Of course! That's brilliant! Why didn't I think of that before?!" he exclaimed himself.

I nodded and took a deep breath before rummaging through my brain. I knew exactly what house I had to choose. The perfect one that would make it easier for me to do the job I obliged myself to do.

" _Gryffindor_ ," I thought.

"Well, if you think that's best then it shall be none other than GRYFFINDOR!"

I heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table.  

There was a three-minute silence as I took off the hat before everyone at the Gryffindor table jumped up and cheered, even louder than they had cheered for Harry. As I made my way towards the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins being the most excited jumped around yelling,

"We got Hawkins! We got Hawkins!"

"She's a Hawk," one of the twins said.

"And she's in," the other continued

"Gryffindor!" they both finished at the same time as Percy once again got up to shake my hand quite vigorously before I sat down beside Harry who grinned at me along with the Weasley twins. I nodded at them and had to fight the urge to smile back and laugh at what the two redheads had said.

Just then, the ghost I'd seen earlier, appeared in the ruff. The ghost patted my arm, giving me the sudden, horrible feeling I'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Now I could see the High Table more clearly. In the center of it, in a large golden chair, sat grandpa D. beside Hagrid. His silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. I spotted Professor Quirrell, too. A nervous young man. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now, turns out I wasn't the last person on the list. There were three people left to be sorted.

"Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry and me at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn.

He was pale green by now. From the corner of my eye, I saw Harry cross his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to me between the twins and I. I nodded at him and patted his arm amicably.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took Mister hat away.

I looked down at my empty gold plate. As usual, I wasn't really hungry, while everyone else was pretty much starving. The licorice wand seemed minutes ago. I was still full. 

Grandpa D. had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Everyone stared at him mutely. "Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry seemed to not know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he— a bit mad?" he asked Percy uncertainly. My eyes widened and I instantly clapped my hand to his mouth and shook my head quickly as if to say, " _Never **ever** say that again!_ " I'm guessing he got the message since he nodded back quickly as I released my hold on him.

"Mad?" said Percy airily. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. I was shocked, I had never seen so many things I liked to eat but couldn't on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Harry and Ron piled their plates with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat, but when they saw I had barely anything on my plate, they gave me disapproving looks before filling it up with a bit of everything as well. I began to take small bites and couldn't help but feel like home again. It was all delicious.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak.

"Can't you—?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you— you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly.

Looking pleased with the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So— new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable— he's the Slytherin ghost."

We looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry seemed pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding—

As I took a tiny bite off a doughnut, Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, and the talk turned to their families. Dinner lasted quite a while as I finished earlier since I was full after the third bite I took out of my sausage and the one bite I took out of my doughnut.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried grandpa D. I noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

Grandpa D. gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed: 

" _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot_." 

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Grandpa D. conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. I was too tired even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as we passed, or that twice Percy led us through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. We climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and I was just wondering how much farther we had to go when we came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of us, and as Percy took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves— show yourself."

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

I narrowed my eyes, uncapped my marker went up to Percy and wrote down what I wanted him to say. I held my board out to him, and he repeated it out loud.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. Percy smiled thankfully at me before turning to glare at the poltergeist.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at us. They all ducked, but I stayed put.

Frustrated that he was keeping us from going to sleep, I grabbed my wand and wrote in the air,

" _Go away, Peeves or the Baron will hear about this; I mean it!_ "

"Oooooooh!" he said, smirking evilly at me. "What do we have here. Brave ickle firstie."

I narrowed my eyes and wrote, " _First of all, I have a name, and it is not **'ickle firstie'** ; it is Delilah Hawkins. Second of all, no one wants you nor your stupid pranks right now, so get out of our way. We have had a long day, and we want to sleep_."

Peeves' smirk faded, and he stared at me in shock as I glared at him. He then pouted and stuck out his tongue vanishing, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. We heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

I then turned around to face my fellow Gryffindor mates and nodded and Percy to continue his job as a prefect.

He nodded thankfully at me before turning to the other first years. "You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as we set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, and now Delilah can too, he won't even listen to us prefects... Here we are."

The very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall.

We all scrambled through it— Neville needed a leg up— and found ourselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to our dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase— they were obviously in one of the towers. I playfully punched both Harry and Ron on the shoulders and nodded. I took out my wand again and wrote in the air,

" _I will see you tomorrow morning?_ "

They nodded and with that, we each went our separate ways.

I had a room to myself considering I'm not a simple witch. There was a queen sized bed in the middle with deep red, velvet curtains. My trunk, phoenix and other things had already been brought up. Too tired to do anything else, I pulled on my pair of cut-off jeans, a plain grey t-shirt and fell onto my bed. I rubbed my forearms, feeling my old scars and cringing at the memories before sighing.

At least I wouldn't have to go through any of it ever again.

Hopefully...


	9. The potions master

_I was in a room, a room that looked all too familiar. I was sitting on the edge of a bed and staring down at my hands, shaken up about something that had just happened. After a few minutes passed, I felt someone else enter the room. I looked up only to stare back in shock at the one person I truly hate— the man of the house— and see him standing there, by the door closed behind him, with his left hand curled up into a fist and the other holding a knife. I swallowed hard and instinctively gripped onto the edge of my bed and started moving backward as I looked at Christophe. I looked down at myself and gave one glance at my beat up clothes— my shorts pretty ripped up and my shirt with holes in it covered in old bloodstains— before looking back up at him._

_Why was I here? How did I get back here? I was free? I remember it clearly._

_I looked at him and swallowed hard. I knew what was coming._

_"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape," he said as I tried to get away. "You are not going away, so come back here so I can finish with you," he said, anger in his voice._

_Breathing heavily, I looked down, again, at my upper arms and saw the scars that I have sustained through the years I had spent here and had to go through the torture. My breathing hitched as he came nearer again and held me by my waist._

_"NOO!! PLEASE!!" I wanted to shout, but my lips wouldn't move. I wanted to start screaming but I knew that no one will come for me nor hear me because this room was sound proof. If Alice and Annabelle came earlier just in time before Axel went any further, it was just a mere coincidence. I started prying his hands off but it didn’t work, he was way too strong._

_He turned my body around in one fluid move and he sat on my thighs, he slipped my shorts off till I was left in my underwear and he started cutting with sharp knife in the small of my back. I knew that he was writing another word but I couldn’t make out the letters because of two reasons— one the letters were too small and two it hurts so much that I couldn’t think about anything else than the pain. I screamed and wriggled to come out of his grasp but he held my arms just above where he was cutting with the knife and my body didn’t even move an inch._

_I was screaming and was surprised that his ears didn’t start bleeding he shook me, probably to shut me up. I didn’t cry because I couldn't. He wouldn't appreciate that and would only beat me up more. I have to be completely still… I stood still, not wriggling or screaming anymore, I bit my lips and shut my eyes tightly and counted every second that passed as I waited for it to be over and for the darkness to take over me as it usually does..._

~*~

My eyes snapped open and I was breathing heavily, my body completely shook up from that nightmare. I sat up but instantly regretted it as I felt a familiar pain engulf my body. I looked down and my breath got caught up in my throat.

My shirt and shorts were covered in... blood. Fresh blood. I looked up at the window and saw that the sun had barely started to rise. _Great_. I slowly got up and made my way to my bathroom.

Once there I shut the door and carefully took off my clothes. I looked down at my body and saw that most of my old scars from when Christophe used to torture were... reopened. How was this possible? Closing my eyes, I shook my head before opening them again and going to take a shower, avoiding the mirror. I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror... I never have, so why start now? I know it's stupid to not know how you look, but I don't care. Sure I used to have an excuse in my first two years of living— I trained all the time and barely has time to stop in front of a mirror to admire myself, and I never really saw the point in it. When I was held captive well... why would I want to see how tortured I look? And then now? I know I was severely damaged, and I honestly wouldn't want to see how bad it looks.

I think I stayed in the shower for about three hours because when I got back to my room to change into my robes, the sun was up and shining brightly. I used magic to dry myself up before putting on my uniform and braiding my hair into a long thick braid. I think my hair grew longer since yesterday... it now falls all the way to my mid-back.

I made my way to the Common room and waited patiently for Harry and Ron who, thank God, came only five minutes later.

"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

"Is the girl beside them, Delilah?"

"With the long braid?"

"Did you see her scar?"

"She's pretty."

I literally face-palmed myself at the last comment.

Whispers followed us from the moment we left the Common room. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at the both of us or doubled back to pass us in the corridors again, staring. I wished they wouldn't because I was trying to concentrate on not freaking out while Harry was concentrating on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was because it all seemed to move around a lot. Thank the goddess of the moon, I have a good memory... most of the time. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and I was sure the coats of armor could walk.

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the darn Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on our very first morning. I, on the other hand, managed to gain his respect thanks to my alpha attitude. They were out of luck with him— Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick. Mrs. Norris would've probably gotten me into trouble purposely for me now being part wolf, but it was a good thing that I was good with animals and that she also gave into my orders as an alpha.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic.

We had to study the night skies through our telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where we learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while we scribbled down names and dates and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of our first class, he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's and my name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. She was strict and clever, you could easily learn from her. What amused me was when she gave the whole class a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. All except me since I don't talk.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger and I had made any difference to our match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave us both a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. I had to snort at that. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but we weren't sure we believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, we had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Harry seemed very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Friday was Harry and Ron had told me this was a very important day for them. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked us as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron answered as I simply nodded. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them— we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Just then, the mail arrived. I had gotten used to this by now, but it had given me a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. I think I shocked people the most when Atlas came flying in with a letter of grandpa D. inviting me over to his office for business talk. I had simply grimaced before nodding, knowing he could see me.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once and leaned closer to me so we could both read it. It said, in a very untidy scrawl: 

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry had asked if I wanted to go and I accepted with a nod. He then borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. It was lucky that we had tea with Hagrid to look forward to because the Potions lesson was not really something I was looking forward to.

At the start-of-term banquet, I had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked Harry. By the end of the first Potions lesson, I knew I'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry— he hated him. I had to keep an eye on that guy.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new— celebrity." It came out more like a sneer.

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. But despite the emptiness, his whole physique was somewhat familiar...

"Oh?" he said softly as he reached the last name on his parchment before looking up at me. "Delilah Hawkins. Our other new— celebrity." Though this time, it came out quite softly before going back to his cold self.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but we caught every word— like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death— if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows as they turned to look at me. I simply shrugged. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat, beside me, and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air. I rolled my eyes, shocking myself. I had _never_ rolled my eyes in my entire life.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut— fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. I simply did my best to ignore Snape as I opened my book and went through the pages, looking at the names of the various potions that exist.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi? Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?" I face-palmed myself big time.

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased. Annoyed, I slammed my book closed gaining everyone's attention, including Snape's.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. He walked over to me and asked me the same questions just as coldly as he asked Harry. I simply glared at him and brought my wand up. I flicked it, lifting a piece of chalk from his desk and making it write on the chalkboard the exact answer I had formed up in my mind with a little extra writing,

" _Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Now, Merry Christmas, have a smilier new year and do not ask me any more questions._ " Everyone laughed at that.

Snape clenched his jaw and frowned at me before turning to look at the rest of the class coldly. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." He turned to me again, with a soft expression. "Five points awarded to Gryffindor House for Hawkins'." I raised an eyebrow. He could've just let Hermione answer. I turned to look at her and saw her disappointed expression. I gently patted her arm sympathetically.

Things didn't improve much for us Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put us all into pairs and set us to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching us weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

"You— Potter— why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

As we climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry seemed kind of depressed. I guess it had to something to do with the fact that he'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week— why did Snape hate him so much?

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you two?"

At five to three we left the castle and made our way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang— back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears before coming towards me and setting down at my feet. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half my life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth— I didn't eat because of my lack of hunger and Hagrid already knew the reason, so he didn't insist— but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about our first lessons. Fang rested his head on my knee and drooled all over my robes, but I didn't really care. I started petting his head.

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch "that old git." while I didn't really care since, despite my muteness, I pretty much intimidated the man instead of it being the other way around.

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her— Fitch puts her up to it."

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?" The real question in my head is: why didn't Hagrid quite meet his eyes when he said that?

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot— great with animals."

I think Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy and showed it to me. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

**Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.**

**"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.**

I remembered Ron telling Harry on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry and I read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry, Ron and I walked back to the castle for dinner, them being idiots by weighing down their pockets with rock cakes they'd been _too_ polite to refuse, I thought that I seriously had to speak with grandpa D. The dreams I had been getting affected me not only physically, but also mentally. And today, none of the lessons I'd had so far had given me as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? If they wanted me to keep doing my job, they had to tell me.


	10. One kiss, one word

Malfoy was so annoying. I felt bad for Harry who seemed to hate the guy more than his own cousin. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so we didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, we didn't until we spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made us all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday— and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." I sympathetically patted his shoulder. He wasn't the only one who had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn't the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, I felt she'd had a good reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book— not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday, she bored us all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. I also had been getting gifts of which I was slightly afraid— they were anonymous. Even grandpa D. didn't know who was sending them to me. Many times I got jewelry and clothing... but those were all things I wouldn't use so I'd give most of it to the other girls in Gryffindor. When I got sweets, I would give it to the Weasleys and Harry. I didn't want any gifts.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed us a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things— this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red— oh..." His face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet.

"You've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet and I slowly got up as well. They seemed to be half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him, but not before winking at me.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, me and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. I had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted as I simply stared.

I looked down at my broom, narrowed my eyes and thought, " _Up_."

My broom jumped into my hand at once like Harry's did, but we were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. There was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle— three— two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet— twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom. I instantly zoomed up into the air and caught him on my broom before he could fall. But just as he got on, he somehow managed to take control over my broom and make it go crazy just like his had done. Not able to keep a firm grip on the broomstick, I fell off, hitting the right side of my body onto the statue below. I heard a nasty crack as I went through the impact and let out a loud whimper.

I looked up at the sky and quickly brought my wand out with my uninjured arm and pointed it at Neville who was crash diving.

" _Immobulus!_ " I thought. He froze in the air for a few seconds before he quickly started to fall, completely immobile. I quickly rummaged through my brain looking for a better spell. Then I remembered.

" _Arresto Momentum!_ " I thought. His whole frame along with the broomstick started following the movement of my arm as I slowly made them descend. The moment he touched the ground, everyone rushed over to me as I sighed in relief but then stopped myself short as a loud crack reminded me what I had been ignoring three minutes ago.

My eyes widened before I let out an ear piercing scream and clutched my right broken arm. Suddenly darkness started to gain on me in a way it hadn't done in a long time...

**Harry's P.O.V.**

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

I glanced down at my broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'

"UP!" everyone shouted.

My broom jumped into my hand at once just like Delilah's, but we were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. _Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid_ , I thought; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Ron and I were delighted when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle— three— two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle— twelve feet— twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom. Delilah instantly zoomed up into the air and caught him on her broom before he could fall. But just as he got on, he somehow managed to take control over her broom and make it go crazy just like his had done. She fell off, hitting the right side of her body onto the statue below. I heard a nasty crack as she went through the impact and let out a loud whimper.

Everyone looked up at the sky. I looked back down at Delilah and saw her quickly bring her wand out with her uninjured arm and point it at Neville who was crash diving.

Whatever spell she had done, was useful, but only for a few seconds. He froze in the air before he quickly started to fall, completely immobile.

She then did another spell that was entirely successful this time. His whole frame along with the broomstick started following the movement of her arm as she slowly made them descend. The moment he touched the ground, everyone— me and Ron being the first— rushed over to her as she sighed in relief but then stopped herself short as another loud crack emerged from her body. Then realization seemed to hit her.

Her eyes widened before she let out an ear piercing scream and clutched her right arm. Her scream then died out as she fainted.

Madam Hooch bent down over Delilah, her face gone completely white.

"Oh, my Godric... Broken arm and leg," I heard her mutter. "Who knows what else she broke in that fall. Come on, boy— it's all right,  you get," she told Neville while picking up Delilah in her arms.

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take these two to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had gently cradled Delilah's delicate body in her arms.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Shut up. At least she's brave enough to stick up for him like Delilah was braver than you'll ever be and went to save his life!" Ron snapped, and for a moment, I think I saw worry cloud Malfoy's face too.

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," I said quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

Malfoy smiled nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find— how about— up a tree?"

"Give it here!" I yelled, but Malfoy had leaped onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

I grabbed my broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione Granger. "Madam Hooch told us not to move— you'll get us all into trouble."

I ignored her. Blood was pounding in my ears. I mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up I soared; air rushed through my hair, and my robes whipped out behind me— and in a rush of fierce joy I realized I'd found something I could do without being taught— this was easy, this was wonderful. I pulled my broomstick up a little to take it even higher and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

I turned my broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned.

"Give it here," I called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried.

I knew, somehow, what to do. I leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; I made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," I called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

I saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. I leaned forward and pointed my broom handle down— next second I was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball— wind whistled in my ears, mingled with the screams of people watching— I stretched out my hand— a foot from the ground I caught it, just in time to pull my broom straight, and I toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in my fist.

"HARRY POTTER!"

~~*~~

I was now the seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and what only made me feel better was when Professor McGonagall went to ask Delilah to be a chaser. I was extremely happy when I learned that she accepted even if she hesitated a bit.

The moment Professor McGonagall left, Ron and I rushed over to the bed which's curtain was pulled close followed by Hermione who I just realized was here too.

I went first, peeking through the curtain. I pushed the curtain a bit further away and hesitantly leaned in a bit more.

Delilah was waiting for us, her face calm and smooth. The haggard, gaunt look was gone, but only a careful blankness took its place. There was no animation in her eyes that were now a chocolate brown.

It was hard to look at her face, knowing that she was in pain even if she didn't show it. I loved her. That was the only explanation for these feelings. I'm eleven years old and I am madly in love.

Her body had been covered with a quilt. It was a relief not to have to see the extent of the damage.

I stepped in as all I could see was her. Just her and I alone.

"Hi, Deli," I murmured.

She didn’t answer at first. She looked at my face for a long moment. Then, with some effort, she rearranged her expression into a slightly small smile, shocking me. I never thought I would see those full pink lips curl up into a smile, even less have it addressed to me. I suddenly had the urge to kiss her, but I had no time to think any further as I was wrenched away.

"Oh Delilah, I'm so happy you're alright," Hermonie said going over to hug her. Delilah flinched away and just as she did, she instantly froze for a second before whimpering lowly.

Hermione quickly stepped back, blushing. "Sorry, I forgot you were injured."

Delilah nodded, smiling another small smile, shocking Hermione as well.

She looked over at Ron. "So glad you’re awake Deli. Can I call you Deli?" she nodded. "We've been worried sick when Madame Hooch brought you in here, you were hurt pretty badly. Thought Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to help," he said. He smiled but then was equally shocked when she smiled back a small smile at him too.

The smile might've been small but it was extremely beautiful.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

I felt like shit. Pardon my vocabulary, but that was the only way to put it. The arm I had first broken ten years ago, it just _had_ to break again, didn't it?

I was now a chaser in the Gryffindor Quidditch team along with Harry who was now the seeker for some reason that is completely unknown to me. Harry, Ron... and Hermione came to see me at the hospital wing right after McGonagall left. It was quite funny to watch. Painful, but really quite funny.

Harry came first, peeking through the curtain. He then pushed the curtain a bit further away and hesitantly leaned in a bit more.

He stepped in and there was just the two of us here. I wondered where the two others were.

"Hi, Deli," he murmured in a way I found kind of adorable.

I didn’t answer at first. I looked at his face for a long moment. Then, with some effort, I rearranged my expression into a slightly small smile, without a doubt shocking him. I guess he never thought he would ever see me smile, and honestly, neither did I. But there was something about this place, about these people that just made me _feel_ again. Despite the nightmares I'd been having about my past, Hogwarts and the people I was hanging around with were really making me feel almost... human. Like a normal human. Suddenly, he was wrenched away.

"Oh Delilah, I'm so happy you're alright," Hermione said coming over and was about to hug me, but I flinched away and just as I did, I instantly froze for a second before whimpering lowly at the pain of my injury along with the reopened old scars.

Hermione quickly stepped back, blushing. "Sorry, I forgot you were injured."

I nodded, smiling another small smile, shocking Hermione as well.

I looked over at Ron. "So glad you’re awake Deli. Can I call you Deli?" I nodded. "We've been worried sick when Madame Hooch brought you in here, you were hurt pretty badly. Thought Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to help," he said. He smiled but then was equally shocked when I smiled back a small smile at him too.

After that, the two decided to leave, leaving Harry and me alone. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he came to sit onto the side edge of my bed.

"How are you feeling?" he mumbled. What a stupid question.

I rolled my eyes, grabbed my wand within my left hand and wrote in the air, " _A little stoned. Madame Pomfrey is not sure about what else I need, so she is going with trial and error. I heal really fast, but she does not want to believe it. Think she overdid it._ "

"But you’re not in pain."

" _No. At least, I can not feel my injuries_ ," I wrote, smiling warmly again though I just realized he wasn't looking at me. He was just staring down at his feet.

I narrowed my eyes, put my wand back on the night table and leaned in closer to him, ignoring the pain shooting through my right arm. I put my hand under his chin and pulled his face up only to see that he had been crying. But before I could grab my wand and write anything else, Harry leaned down and... kissed me.

This was... my first _real_ kiss. I didn't know what to do, I didn't want to make him feel bad. He moved his hand to my cheek and I still didn't know what to do. He pulled away, but before I could say anything he walked away with his head hung low.

"Harry," I whispered, but he was already gone...


	11. Halloween

Harry, Ron and Hermione, the three idiots, went to meet Malfoy for a supposed duel that was never actually going to happen. Despite how close Harry kept trying to be to me especially after the kiss, I was completely furious when I learned that they found out about Fluffy. The three of them had seen me smile yesterday, but I do mean it when I say that they won't see that smile again.

It was hard for me to not be amused when I saw Malfoy who couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. I wasn't so thrilled about their way of thinking, but none the less, I acted as my usual self. In the meantime, Harry filled Ron and I in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection, while I kept frowning.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," said Harry.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues, which only relieved me.

Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermione kept sticking by my side like glue whenever she could; she was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by two long, thin packages carried by six large screech owls each. I was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped one in right in front of me and the other right in front of Harry, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel while Atlas flew in and dropped a letter in front of me.

Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

**_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._ **

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one._

_Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Professor McGonagall_

I then ripped open my letter and read:

**_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._ **

_When I make a promise, I keep it. And I do recall promising a certain Nimbus Two Thousand..._ _Oliver Wood will meet you and Harry tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session._

_Yours truly,_

_Grandpa D._

I seriously had a hard time trying not to smile at this. I looked up at Harry and saw that he was having a lot of difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron to read who eagerly grabbed mine from my hands as well.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

We left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before our first class, but halfway across the entrance hall we found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized Harry's package from his hands and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

I rolled my eyes as Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harry. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Delilah too," Ron snapped.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry and I. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"They're Nimbus Two Thousands, sir," said Harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," he added. I had to hold back a laugh when he said that.

Harry, Ron and I headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy's obvious rage and confusion while I smiled at the stone floor.

"Well, it's true," Harry chortled as we reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team...." Oh... so that's how it happened.

"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ron, "it's doing us so much good."

I face-palmed myself and punched his shoulder as Hermione marched away with her nose in the air.

Harry wouldn't pay much attention to our lessons that day; he kept thinking about the Nimbus we got and about tonight's Quidditch first lesson. It was really annoying because I was the one who had to make sure he payed attention in class. After dinner, he pretty much yanked me off my seat and bolted out of the Great Hall, dragging me off-handedly all the way to the Quidditch field.

Sure I was excited too, but he didn't have to suffocate me...

~~*~~

Perhaps it was because I was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all my homework and my secret guarding job, but I could hardly believe it when I realized that I'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than anywhere I had ever been in my entire life. Even more than the orphanage. I belonged here. Even my lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that we had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning I woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought we were ready to start making objects fly, something we had all been dying to try since we'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harry's partner was Seamus Finnigan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye). Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. And I was partnered up with Dean Thomas. It was good for me and Harry but Ron... it was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harry's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too— never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

It was really easy, but apparently very difficult for others... Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it— Harry had to put it out with his hat.

Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," I heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Her feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping as I rolled my eyes. "Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!"

I looked down at my feather and thought, " _Wingardium Leviosa_."

My feather rose off my desk and hovered above our heads before gracefully settling onto Professor Flitwick's desk.

He beamed at me and gave ten points to Gryffindor, five for Hermione and five for me. Ron grinned at me but when he turned back to look at Hermione, he glared at her.

Ron was in a pretty bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry and I as we pushed our way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly."

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. I caught a glimpse of her face— and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"I think she heard you," Harry said as I face-palmed myself.

"So?" said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. "She must've noticed she's got no friends." I hit the back of his head multiple times so he would shut up about it. I honestly felt bad for Hermione. I would've gone after her and try to comfort her, but again, I don't talk.

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry, Ron and I overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, and taking his lack of attention as an advantage, and punched him lightly in the kidney.

"Ow," he complained loudly; well, I’d thought I’d punched lightly. "What was that for?"

I grabbed my board and wrote down, " _For being stupid, red jalapeño!_ " and showed it to him. He rolled his eyes and muttered a 'sorry'.

" _I am not the one you are supposed to apologize to_ ," I thought to him. He looked up at me with wide eyes and I simply nodded, confirming that it  _was_  me whom he had heard. A moment later we had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione completely out of our minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

I was just helping myself to a bit of baked potato, but hadn't managed to get much into my mouth. Sighing, I surprised myself by resting my head on Harry's shoulder. I didn't bother to move away though, I was extremely tired from everything that's been happening to me lately. I thought coming to Hogwarts would be my big break and everything would be easier, but none of it has gone easier on me. It's barely a miracle that I'm still standing on my feet today!

With my Quidditch lessons, my stacks of homework, my private lessons with grandpa D., my guarding post over the philosopher's stone, I was completely worn out— I couldn't even sleep well at night with the nightmares I'd been having that have been affecting me physically.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, looking concerned. I looked up at him and nodded sending, him a small secretive smile. Suddenly, I felt a hand rest on my forehead and soon realized it was Ron's.

"Blimey, Deli, you're burning up," he murmured as I lowly whimpered. Why was I feeling this way?

I sighed again and shrugged when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached grandpa D.'s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll— in the dungeons— thought you ought to know." My eyes widened in shock. A troll? In the castle? How on earth did it even get in?

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. I frowned. Something seemed fake in this picture. How would a troll get in? Unless.... someone let it in here. Maybe that's it. Maybe this is someone's planning.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of grandpa D.'s wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harry asked as we climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ron. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

We passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As we jostled our way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, I looked back behind me and finally realized one thing.

Harry and Ron were missing.

I groaned and rummaged through my head, trying to remember what was the last thing they had said.

_"I've just thought— Hermione."_

_"What about her?"_

_"She doesn't know about the troll."_

Great. Just... great. Note the sarcasm

As everyone jostled against each other, not knowing where to go, I used this time to escape from the crowd. As much as I didn't feel good at the moment, I wasn't going to let the three little idiots face a troll on their own.

I was almost at the bathroom when a foul stench reached my nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean. I slipped into the bathroom ignoring the shuffling of footfalls of giant feet. The sound of shouts and scream and a low grunting and shuffling of gigantic feet hit my ears.

"Hermione!" two voices shouted together. I instantly ran.

The moment I ran into the bathroom I was greeted by a horrible sight. The ugliest troll ever.

Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

Harry and Ron were standing in the corner of the bathroom near the sinks, trying to figure out what to do, while Hermione was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking a few sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped— it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll ripped him off and threw him towards the wall but I instantly shouted, "Arresto Momentum!" slowing down his fall.

But then I was thrown against the broken sinks and... broke my freakin' arm once again. Why is it always my arm?!

Slightly wobbling, I got up and saw the troll making an uncoordinated lunge at Ron. I quickly dove forward shoving him away, as it gripped my around the waist pulling me up, making a loud CRACK ring through possibly the whole bathroom. He tightened his grip slightly as I let out a loud whimper from the pain.

"Stupefy!" I managed to shout, pointing my wand at the troll as he was sent flying back— breaking the wall connecting the bathroom to the hall— dropping me, as I landed with a 'thud' and rolled to the side, hitting my head against something sharp as I groaned. I tried to get up, only to collapse back onto the ground, whimpering. It went quiet I was sure of that, as I felt someone approaching me.

"Is it— dead?" Hermione's voice asked.

"I don't think so," said Harry. "I think it's just been knocked out."

"What about Deli? She saved my life." Ron's voice was shaky. I growled lowly, wobbling myself back onto my feet, clutching tightly the right side of my body.

"Deli?" Harry hesitated, reaching a hand out towards me, but I quickly shook my head.

He sighed, bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh— troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. I hadn't realized what a racket we had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Even if it wasn't directed at me, I couldn't help but flinch, seeing them so angry, afraid of being hit. It was a bad habit I had acquired from back when I was with the Adams. McGonagall's lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. Then, finally realizing that the two boys weren't the only ones here and the hole mess that was made, they looked at the big hole in the wall where lay the troll, before looking at me.

I whimpered. "I am sorry for breaking your wall," I whispered before collapsing onto the ground as darkness engulfed me completely.

**Harry's P.O.V.**

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

I then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: I took a great running jump and managed to fasten my arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel me hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and my wand had still been in my hand when I'd jumped— it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with me clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll ripped me off and threw me towards the wall, but then, I heard the most beautiful voice shout, "Arresto Momentum!" and my fall was slowed down, me landing gently onto the ground. I looked up just in time to see Delilah being thrown against the broken sinks. Was she the one who possessed that beautiful voice I had heard only seconds ago?

Slightly wobbling, she got up and I saw the troll making an uncoordinated lunge at Ron. I looked back at Delilah only to see her quickly dive forward shoving him away, as it gripped her around the waist pulling her up, making a loud CRACK ring through possibly the whole bathroom.

My eyes widened in shock. What was that? The troll tightened its grip slightly as Delilah let out a loud whimper in pain.

"Stupefy!" she managed to shout, pointing her wand at the troll as it was sent flying back— breaking the wall connecting the bathroom to the hall— dropping her, as she landed with a thud and rolled to the side as she groaned. She tried to get up, only to collapse back onto the ground, whimpering. I quickly rushed over to her but stopped about two feet away, looking back at the ugly troll.

"Is it— dead?" Hermione's voice asked.

"I don't think so," I said. "I think it's just been knocked out."

"What about Deli? She saved my life." Ron's voice was shaky. Delilah growled lowly, wobbling herself back onto her feet, clutching tightly the right side of her body.

"Deli?" I hesitated, reaching a hand out towards her, but she quickly shook her head.

I sighed, bent down and pulled my wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh— troll boogers." I wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. I hadn't realized what a racket we had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and I. I sneaked a sideways glance and saw Delilah flinch. Probably for seeing them so angry. McGonagall's lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from my mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. I looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave me a swift, piercing look. I looked at the floor. Then, finally realizing that the Ron and I weren't the only ones here and the whole mess that was made, they looked at the big hole in the wall where lay the troll, before looking at Delilah. I looked up at her as well, feeling guilty for not being able to protect her. She was seriously broken.

She whimpered then shocked the life out of me by whispering, "I am sorry for breaking your wall," before collapsing onto the ground, blacking out and leaving us all shocked. I can't believe it. She actually talked. It was a whisper, but that's talking. And her voice was the most beautiful voice I had ever heard on my entire life. Her voice was like golden wind chimes.

No one spoke until a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall— they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. "I went looking for the troll because I— I thought I could deal with it on my own— you know, because I've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? "

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron tried to distract him as best as he could. Delilah helped with amazing spells as well and knocked it out. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Ron and I tried to look as though this story wasn't new to us.

"Well— in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of us, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?" Hermione hung her head. I was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get us out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left. Professor McGonagall turned to Ron and I.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

With that said, Snape picked Delilah up into his arms as Ron and I hurried out of the chamber. We didn't speak at all until we had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points, especially with Delilah who risked her life more than us," Ron grumbled.

"Ten, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's."

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her."

"She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," I reminded him.

We had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," we said and entered.

"I'm thinking of going to see Delilah first thing tomorrow morning. You want to come?" I asked as we climbed through the portrait hole.

"Of course!" he exclaimed himself. "Why wouldn't I?"

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause.

Then, none of us looking at each other, we all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became our friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

Tomorrow, I know that without a doubt, Delilah will be very pleased at the news.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

I felt light shine through my eyes. My eyes, then, fluttered open. At first everything was a blur and all I could see was white.

" _Am I in Heaven?_ " I thought, but then my eyes focused and I could see the ceiling of the Hospital Wing. Again? I groaned.

" _Why am I in here... again?_ " Then I remembered the stinkin' troll as pain shot through my right arm who just loves to get broken.

" _Shoot,_ " I thought, looking around.

Then, when I remembered the stinkin' troll as pain shot through my right arm who just loves to get broken, I bolted upright too quickly, getting a pretty big whiplash.  

"Easy," a soft voice eased me. I looked up and saw Snape standing right beside my bed with a small smile playing on his lips. Then I realized grandpa D. standing by the doorway of the Hospital wing. He nodded as Snape left; I somehow wished he could have stayed. The door shut behind him as I slumped back down onto the bed, groaning at the pain. I looked back at grandpa D. and saw him open his mouth before closing it and sighing.

"You shouldn't have been so careless," he spoke as he made his way over to me. I frowned; I wasn't being careless.

" _I went to do my job, Professor. I was not being careless_ ," I thought coldly. I saw him cringe when I thought 'Professor'.

"Alright, you weren't. But please, do be careful next time," he pleaded in a calm, soothing voice. I nodded and smiled a small smile at him as he beamed back. "Your friends will be here in a few moments. In the meanwhile, rest. You need and deserve it."

I nodded and before I knew it, I was asleep again.


	12. Quidditch

Harry and Ron were now friends with Hermione. I was glad, but pretty irritated as they wouldn't keep their eyes off my every move. I had hoped they wouldn't have heard me when I had shouted the spells at the troll, but they heard me loud and clear. And by the looks of it, they were determined to get me to speak again. That frustrated me a lot and got me to start acting snappier and more distant. I couldn't do my work correctly if they kept their eyes on me. Even McGonagall and Snape were subtly trying to get me to talk; I would just glare at them. Quirrell... No one really cared about him, but personally, I think he's quite odd. I mean, besides the stuttering, there's a disturbing aura constantly surrounding him.

As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaver skin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry and I would be playing in our first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, we would move up into second place in the house championship.

It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn't know how he'd have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making us do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. I'd know since I already read it.

From it, we learn that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry, Ron and I had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before our first Quidditch match the four of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured us up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping as I mentally face-palmed myself. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I moved closer together to block the fire from view; we were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces and my uneasy one caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell us off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Potter?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor."

I gave him a warning look. " _You ought to be more careful; they noticed you limping_ ," I thought to him. Snape stiffened and nodded rigidly before grabbing Harry's book.

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron's Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy, but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. I simply gazed out the window.

Harry was acting restless while I was really restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron, Hermione and I he was going to ask Snape if he could have it.

"Better you than me," they said together, and I think I fell asleep there on the sofa the moment he left...

~~*~~

"Did you get it?" Ron asked as Harry joined us. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harry told us what he'd seen. I frowned.

"You know what this means?" he finished breathlessly. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him— he's after whatever it's guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermione's eyes were wide.

"No— he wouldn't," she said. "I know he's not very nice, but he wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe."

"Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ron. "I'm with Harry. I wouldn't put anything past Snape. But what's he after? What's that dog guarding?"

I couldn't take it anymore.

I bolted upright off the sofa. " _Severus is after nothing. The dog does not concern you either, so stay out of it_ ," I snapped into their heads before storming off to my room leaving the three of them shock struck.

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. The three idiots kept trying even harder now to make me talk, especially since my snapping from yesterday.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

I rolled my eyes and shoved the plate they had gotten me towards Harry, shaking my head. " _I am not hungry_ ," I wrote in the air with my wand.

"I'm not hungry either," Harry said, pushing the plate away.

"Harry, Delilah, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team and Chasers need to give out strong throws."

I groaned, took the slice of toast off of Ron's plate, took a small bite out of it and threw it back. I then grabbed three sausages, put them on a plate and gave them to Harry along with the ketchup. He blushed when I gently touched his cheek before motioning him to eat.

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his own sausages before turning to smile at me, blushing. "Thanks, Deli."

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry and I, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President and Hawkins for Princess— why princess, I don't know— and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry, the rest of the team and I were changing into our scarlet Quidditch robes.

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay, men," he said.

"And women," said Chaser Angelina Johnson as I nodded in agreement.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all been waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harry and I, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at us all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harry and I followed Fred and George out of the locker room and walked onto the field to loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once we were all gathered around her. I noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year who, once he caught sight of me, winked at me and smirked cockily.

"Mount your brooms, please."

I sat on my Nimbus Two Thousand, ready and slightly bored.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. We were off and I quickly took the Quaffle.

The Slytherins were about to grab the Quaffle, but I quickly hooked a leg on my broom I swung down, grabbing it as I swung back up with it hooked under my arm. I heard gasps and cheers in the crowd.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Delilah Hawkins of Gryffindor— our new Chaser... what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and for a first year, rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve— goes to Johnson and— no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes— Flint flying like an eagle up there— he's going to sc— no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle— that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and— OUCH— that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger— Quaffle taken by the Slytherins— that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger— sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which— nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Hawkins's back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes— she's really flying— dodges a speeding Bludger— the goal posts are ahead— come on, now, Delilah— Keeper Bletchley dives— misses— GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins the moment I threw the Quaffle through a hoop. The game pretty much went like this for a while, me scoring most of the points.

When Angelina had scored, I noticed Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the— wait a moment— was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch as I quickly grabbed the Quaffle and scored.

Harry was faster than Higgs— he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead he put on an extra spurt of speed— WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below— Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So— after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, I thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. What on earth was going on?

It happened again, but, this time, it was my broom. I tightened my grip on it, holding on for dear life as I tried to regain control over it. I was now sure of it; our broom were being jinxed. How do I know? It was as though the broom was trying to buck me off, so it's obvious. Isn't it? I mean, Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. I tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts and finally managed, but I couldn't say the same about Harry— his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him.

Lee was still commentating. "Slytherin in possession— Flint with the Quaffle— passes Spinnet— passes Bell— hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose— only joking, Professor— Slytherins score— A no..."

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying- him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

After scoring another point, I flew to the edge of the field to get a better look. I looked around for the person who was jinxing Harry's broom when, suddenly, people were pointed up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. I was about to dive forward, towards him but, once again, my broom spun out of control, it suddenly tried to dive ready to smack into the ground, when it suddenly jerked straight upwards.

I felt almost like I had control as I flew towards Harry, my hand outstretch for him, as he reached for me to grab him.

" _Harry!_ " I shouted in my head as I saw his eyes go wide over my shoulder. My broom jerked, straight into the path of a Bludger, as it slammed hard into my shoulder, causing me to grit my teeth as I tried to ignore the pain. I think I dislocated or maybe broke my shoulder from the impact. I clutched my shoulder as my broom jerked once more causing me slip straight off. I quickly grabbed onto it, with my uninjured arm, before I could completely fall of and used my shifter strength to throw myself back onto it. I looked up at Harry and started to feel slightly panicked. I don't know how to do counter curses, so I had no idea how to help him.

His broom was now vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up, too, to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good— every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

A sudden yelp coming from the teachers' stand told me it was probably one of them who had been jinxing our brooms. After scoring another point, I averted my gaze in that direction and noticed Snape was... on fire. It couldn't have been him. I know he hates Harry, but even so, I don't think he would've gone to the point where he would end up jinxing us. He was probably murmuring a counter curse. Then I noticed Hermione hiding there not too far behind and realized she thought otherwise and put him on fire.

Whatsoever, that seemed to distract whoever was casting the jinx; it was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick, but then I saw from the corner of my eye another Bludger flying towards him. So I instantly made my way in between them and the next thing I knew, I was crash diving after hearing a loud crack and a few people from the crowd gasping. After crash landing pretty hard, my body rolled all the while I was cringing and whimpering in pain.

"I've got the Snitch!" I heard Harry shout, and the game ended in complete confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later— I really hate that guy; I kept throwing insults at him in my head— but it made no difference— Harry hadn't broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results— Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

"But wait," I heard Lee say. "Is that Delilah on the ground of the field?" Just then, many more gasps were heard as people rushed over to me, Harry, the twins, Wood and grandpa D. being the first to reach me.

"Delilah? Are you alright? What's wrong?" Grandpa D. asked, concern filling his voice. I clutched my right arm that was, once again, broken.

I groaned loudly. "Bludger," I simply answered, shocking people with the fact that I _can_ speak.

"Severus," grandpa D. called as Snape suddenly appeared behind him. He stepped forward and picked me up, but the movement was so quick that I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips.

"Sorry," he muttered. I nodded before falling unconscious.

~~*~~

_I was cold._

_I was... alone._

_I had no idea where I was, but even though it seemed like I was alone, it didn't feel that way._

_I knew there was someone else here. I couldn't help but feel a little edgy as I felt a dark, murderous aura surrounding me._

_For the first time in forever, I was scared._

_Not confused, scared._

_I realized I was lying down on a stone, cold floor. I slowly got up and looked around, though I had to really squint my eyes in order to see clearly._

_It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket— but propped against the wall facing me was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way._

_I frowned._

_My frown deepened as a snake like hiss filled the air and the atmosphere slowly got colder and colder. I was confused. What's going on? Why am I even here in the first place? Of all places, why here?_

_Suddenly, submerging from all of those hisses, a smooth voice softly hissed, "Delilah," unnecessarily dragging the 'ah' out._

_I spun my head from side to side to find the owner of the voice, but came out empty._ _"Who is there?" I asked, shocking myself by speaking._

_Why did I speak? I've only spoken five times after ten years, but those were exceptions. I had to make myself clear... well except when I snapped at my three friends— wait. I didn't speak out loud that time, so it's only four times I have spoken, but... Do I really consider them my... friends? That'd be a first._

_"Delilah Hawkins," the voice said again. I didn't move this time— I stiffened. "Welcome."_

_"Who are you?" I asked, backing up against the wall, searching for my wand. Realizing I didn't have it with me, I went for the **usual** and stayed put, in a fighting stance in case I had to punch someone. _

_"I am the most powerful— besides you— wizard in the entire universe; Lord Voldemort," he answered with an amused laugh._

_"Powerful, yet you have no body," I muttered, hearing him hiss at that comment. Ignoring that, I asked, "Why are you here— well not technically here— but here? If that makes any sense," shocking myself with the casual tone in my voice that sounded like golden wind chimes._

_I never thought my voice would sound this way, especially after not talking for ten whole years. I could say it almost sounded... beautiful._

_"Because you are going to join me," he replied just as casually. I was puzzled._

_"Join you? Where?"_

_His amused laugh once again echoed through the chamber. "Join me on my side, of course."_

_"Your side?"_

_"Yes."_

_"As in the dark side?"_

_"Yes."_

_"As in Darth Vader kind of dark side?"_

_"Ye— wait, what?"_

_"Nothing, just trying to confuse you. And as for joining you, that is not going to happen," I said in monotone._

_He ignored the last things I said, and said, "I need someone with your talent on my side."_

_"Talent?" I asked._

_"Oh, you do not know?" The voice was now in my ear._

_I snorted. "Do you?"_

_"Of cou—"_

_"No, you do not. You only know what everyone knows— I am the most powerful witch alive, even more powerful than you. What you do not know is... well, why I accepted to attend Hogwarts, what I have been through in my entire life— which even Dumbledore does not know_ — _and I am honestly still shocked that I am even replying and talking this much after not talking at all for ten years," I said, frowning because I really was shocked._

_"Ten years? Wh—"_

_"None of your business. I know, without a doubt that this is a dream that you are intruding, so if you will excuse me, I will be trying to find a way to wake up now."_

_"You're not going anywhere. You will join me," he hissed._

_"You think so? Well think otherwise, mister. I am a soul guardian, something you will never understand. So that means I will never, willingly or unwillingly give my soul to you. After all, you did kill my grandparents. It is not in my nature to think of revenge or side with death, but I will not rest until you are dead. Even if that means I will have to kill you myself."_

_He laughed hysterically. "Surely you don’t want your little Harry Potter dead? It would be entirely your fault you know," he hissed._

_I froze. "You would not dare. Not while I am around," I growled._

_He laughed again. "I wouldn't dare? You wouldn't dare to leave if you had any idea of what I could do," he mocked._

_Frustrated, I ignored his last comment and said smugly, "This is my dream, I can leave when I want to."_

_"You are not going anywhere. You. Will. Join. Me," he hissed._

_"Yes, sure, in your wildest madman dreams. Go to... Tartarus! I will never join you. I do not care what powers I have that you want," I growled._

_"Hmm... perhaps this will change your mind, princess," he mocked before shouting, "Crucio!"_

_The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that I no longer knew where I was— not that I even knew it before—white-hot knives were piercing every inch of my skin, of my scars, reopening them, my head was surely going to burst with pain; I was screaming more loudly than I'd ever screamed in my life—_

_"Devine. Ego non iunctio vos._ _Ego non. Devine!"_ _I shouted. Why was I shouting in my... parental language?_

_Then, the scene changed._

_I was in a room, a room that looked all too familiar. I was sitting on the edge of a bed and staring down at my hands, shaken up about hat I remembered all too clear as if it had happened just yesterday. Sure enough, after a few minutes passed, Christophe_ — _the one person I truly hate— was standing there, by the door closed behind him, with his left hand curled up into a fist and the other holding a knife. I would honestly go back and face Voldemort instead of this maniac. I swallowed hard and instinctively gripped onto the edge of my bed and started moving backwards as I looked at Christophe. I looked down at myself and gave one glance at my beat up clothes— my shorts pretty ripped up and my shirt with holes in it covered in old bloodstains— before looking back up at him._

_Why was I here? Why do I keep coming back here?_

_I remember it clearly. I knew what was coming. I would rather be cursed by whatever curse Voldemort had casted on me instead of going through this over and over again._

_"You little brat, why don't you understand? There. Is. No. Escape," he said as I instinctively tried to get away. "You are not going away, so come back here so I can finish with you," he said, anger in his voice._

_Breathing heavily, I looked down, again, at my upper arms and saw the scars that I have sustained through the years I had spent here and had to go through the torture. I waited as he came nearer again and held me by my waist, knowing that even if I tried, I wouldn't be able to get away. Plus, this is a dream_ — _a replay of my horrible memories. Memories I can't change nor forget._

_"NOO!! PLEASE!!" wasn't something I cared about shouting anymore. I couldn't. I couldn't speak in this memory. And even if I wanted to start screaming, I knew that no one would come for me nor hear me because this room was sound proof. I didn't try to pry his hands off because I knew it wouldn't work, he was way too strong._

_He turned my body around in one fluid move and he sat on my thighs, he slipped my shorts off till I was left in my underwear and he started cutting with sharp knife in the small of my back. I knew that he was writing another word but I couldn’t make out the letters because of two reasons— one the letters were too small and two it hurts so much that I couldn’t think about anything else than the pain. I screamed and wriggled to come out of his grasp but he held my arms just above where he was cutting with the knife and my body didn’t even move an inch._

_I didn't scream this time. I didn’t cry. What was the point? After all, I knew I couldn't. I always thought of that as a perk of mine, because if I was able to cry, well let's just say I would be hoping I didn't in the moments I'm being tortured because I know that he wouldn't appreciate that and would only beat me up more. I have to be completely still…_

_I stood still, not wriggling or screaming, I bit my lips and shut my eyes tightly and counted every second that passed as I waited for it to be over and for the darkness to take over me as it usually does... But this time, there was one thing I finally feared._

_My worst and only fear was if I'd be able to wake up, now..._

**Harry's P.O.V.**

I looked at Delilah as she winced and flinched in her sleep. She looked so beautiful, but I was worried and scared for her. Worried that she'll try to save someone again, end up in the hospital wing again, and might not wake up. Scared, because her body is shaking violently, her temperature is over the normal, and she's extremely pale at the moment.

I wasn't the only one who was worried about her. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, some students from other houses, Ron and Hermione were here and worried as well. Even Percy and Snape were here, looking slightly worried.

After staring at her for quite a while, she surprised and shocked us all when she started mumbling. Even if we didn't understand a word because she was saying it all in another language, I think we were mostly shocked that she was _speaking_.

" _Devine. Ego non iunctio vos._ _Ego non. Devine!_ " **(Stop. I will not join you. I will not. Stop!)** she muttered before shocking the life out of us by letting out an ear piercing scream, even louder than the ones I've heard from her before. Her entire body started... bleeding as she screamed for about five minutes before shutting up completely. She lay still. Not moving. Not breathing. I was scared. I didn't want to lose her.

I was so worried; she looked helpless, just lying there, pale as snow.

Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open as all emotion was completely wiped out of her face. She sat up barely wincing in pain and looked at all of us. She then flickered her gaze down at herself and tensed up. She frowned.

"Deli?" Ron asked. She looked up at him, still frowning.

She then averted her gaze to Dumbledore who was looking at her expectantly. She shook her head. She pushed herself off the bed and ran out of the hospital wing, leaving us all dumbfounded. How did she heal so quickly?

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

Suddenly, my eyes fluttered open and I stared at the sealing. At least now I knew where I was and didn't need to panic. I was at the hospital wing at Hogwarts. I was safe... kind of. As soon as I felt the presence of many people around me, I wiped all emotion completely out of my face. I wasn't ready nor in the mood to be around anyone. I've had enough with my un-personal encounter with Voldemort and my memorial dream. I knew this time it affected me more than ever. I knew it reopened all of my old scars, unlike the usual days when it only reopens up a few of them. I sat up barely wincing in pain and looked at all of them. I then flickered her gaze down at myself and tensed up. I frowned.

Why did the damn blood have to be too visible? Now I'm sure I'll be interrogated.

"Deli?" Ron asked. I looked up at him, still frowning.

" _Delilah, can we talk about... this?_ " grandpa D. asked in my head. I then averted my gaze towards him and shook my head. I pushed myself off the bed and ran out of the hospital wing, leaving them all dumbfounded.

I wanted to be alone.


	13. The Mirror of Erised

_'Crucio'_.  That was what he had said in my dream before I was hit by the curse. That's the Cruciatus curse. It means 'I torture' and in all honesty, I was tortured. Badly.

_The Cruciatus curse is said to be one of the **Unforgivable** **Curses**. That curse inflicts intense pain on the recipient of the curse; the pain is described as having hot knives being driven into the victim. _

That's how I felt.

_It cannot be cast successfully by a person who is doing so out of pure spite or anger; one must feel a true desire to cause the victim pain. I guess it worked for him since he wishes pain upon everyone._

_If one casts this spell, he or she will receive a life sentence in Azkaban prison for it, as with the other three Unforgivable Curses._

He surely performed them all. But why wasn't he in Azkaban, then? I don't care if he is presently just an evil spirit, lock him in a jar for everyone's sake. With him flying around, amused, everyone's life is in danger.

Including mine.

~~*~~ 

No one would leave me alone. Literally. Every student from every house tried to hang out with me even if I wouldn't talk. My three friends, well I preferred them more. They wouldn't leave me alone anywhere, but they wouldn't hover either. They didn't try to make me talk. They nor any Gryffindor pushed me. What really bugged me though, was the way they, just like everyone else, looked me.

They looked at me like if I was the rarest jewel in the entire universe. As if losing me would cost many people's lives. In a way, yes, because like Harry, I'm pretty much a 'Chosen one' as well. I am considered like _'The_ _girl_ _who_ _lived'_.

I consider myself as the girl went to hell and returned...

Christmas was coming, and so was my birthday. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where our breath rose in a mist before us and we kept as close as possible to our hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

I rolled my eyes. I would've gone up to him and strangled him if it weren't for Harry and Hermione holding me back; Ron was actually quite fond of the idea of Malfoy being strangled.

He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family.

I stood in front of Harry in a protective stance as Malfoy and his henchmen narrowed their eyes at me in confusion.

"You're not staying here, are Deli?" Malfoy asked in disbelief.

I growled, pulled out my wand and wrote in the air,

" _First of all, I am an orphan, so obviously I will be staying here. Second of all, if you call me Deli one more time, I will rip out your intestines and strangle you with them_."

That startled him. He swallowed hard. "Why can't I call you—"

" _You are not my friend,_ " I wrote before turning back to my cauldron.

When we left the dungeons at the end of Potions, we found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches. I tilted my head to the side curiously, simply watching.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind us. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose— that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family." I nodded.

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking. When Snape wasn't looking, I discreetly advanced towards Malfoy and punched him hard, in the arm before quickly making my way back beside Harry, acting as if nothing happened.

Ron sent me a grateful look before turning to glare at Malfoy. "I'll get him," said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him—"

"I hate them both," said Harry, "Malfoy and Snape." I nodded, linking my arms with theirs.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the four of us followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree— put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me— Harry, Ron, Delilah we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library." I frowned and gave her a puzzled look. I had no idea what they were up to, but I wanted to find out without them noticing. Plus I needed to look for healing spells and other ones that would hide my scars.

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harry told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"You what?" Hagrid and I looked at each other, shocked. Why the hell are they looking for things about Nicky? And what is with my vocabulary going all American like, all of a sudden? I never really hung much around with anyone at the orphanage. Why do I speak like that now? "Listen here— I've told yeh— drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harry added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere— just give us a hint— I know I've read his name somewhere."

I sent Hagrid a warning look. "I'm sayin' nothin," he said flatly as I nodded.

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ron, and they grabbed my arms and dragged me away, leaving Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there.

Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts.

I sat in a corner looking for healing spells while glancing at them every now and then.

Wishing he'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. I agreed to nothing but staying silent. I was getting pretty irritated by them. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Snape hearing what they were up to.

Harry put an arm around my waist, much to my distaste, and pulled me along with him, making me wait with him outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he shouldn't be very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they thought they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. But even that wouldn't help. Information on Nicolas Flamel isn't something you'd find in the school library.

Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined us, shaking their heads. We went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione.

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harry were having too much of a good time to think much about Flamel, which obviously relieved me. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so we were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. We sat by the hour, them eating anything we could spear on a toasting fork— bread, English muffins, marshmallows— and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work while I was reading my book. I hadn't touched it since the day we arrive at Hogwarts in the train.

Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron's set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family— in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted.

Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn't trust him at all. He wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing.

"Don't send me there, can't you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him." I looked at the board and chuckled. I never played... but I know a lot of things...

I lightly tapped onto Harry's shoulder, and as he looked at me, I wrote in the air,

" _Can I Harry?_ "

"Sure. I don't even know what I'm doing," he agreed as I moved one piece as Ron's eyes went wide.

"Check mate. You're welcome," I mouthed, chuckling as I patted his shoulder.  Ron kept protesting trying to figure out how he had missed something. I sat in my usual armchair in front of the fire and resumed my reading.

Before I knew it, I woke up on Christmas morning, two days before my birthday. I woke to a start, clutching my covers. I sighed in relief; I didn't have nightmare last night. I got up, got dressed and fed Atlas before making my way downstairs. I came halfway down the stairs to see Ron and Harry ripping open presents. They looked up at me and smiled.

"Merry Christmas!" they greeted me as I sat in my usual armchair with a small smile and nodded. Just as I turned my attention to the Christmas tree, my eyes widened when I saw packages with my name on them.

" _I got presents?_ " I thought, with wide eyes. As if reading my mind, Harry and Ron each grabbed a hand of mine and pulled me down between onto the floor.

Harry had a huge grin on his face. "Don't be so surprised, I got some too."

I stared at the wrapped up packages in shock. Who would get me presents?

I picked up the top parcel from my pile. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To D... Lee-lee, from Hagrid. I chuckled. Inside was a roughly cut wooden wolf. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. I stroked its wooden fur, touched by the affection.

A second, very small parcel contained a note.

" _Smiles, drinks,_ " was written on it. I had a slight suspicion of who had sent me this one. I unwrapped it and saw a tiny bottle with a healing potion. Only Snape would think of potions. I smiled.

A very lumpy parcel caught my attention. I tilted my head to the side as I stared at it curiously.

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ron, turning a bit pink. “My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and— oh, no," he groaned.

Harry smiled. "She made you a Weasley sweater, too."

I tore open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in amethyst purple and a large box of homemade fudge. I beamed.

I flicked a finger and my white board and marker appeared on my lap. I uncapped the marker and wrote,

" _Thank your mom for me. That is really nice of her_ ," before showing it to Ron as he nodded after reading it. My next present contained a book— from Hermione. Then it was sweets from Ron, a book about pranks from the twins— who had just joined us in the Common room— a golden badge with my name on it from Percy and a Quidditch sweater from Wood.

There were two presents left for me to unwrap. One was a small box and the other one was a huge box. I then proceeded by opening the big one first, since my friends were just as eager as I was to see what it contained.

I unwrapped it and stared at the black, glass box. Narrowing my eyes, I took a deep breath before lifting the lid. My eyes widened.

Confetti came out of it, flying to my face as a letter flew out and landed on my lap.

Curiously, Harry leaned in, resting his head on my shoulder as I ripped the letter open and read:

_Dear Delilah,_

_I know it's a bit early to give you this, but at least it's only early by two days. I hope this brings a smile to your face. Happy Birthday._

_Yours truly,_

_Grandpa D. and the school staff._

"It's a cake!" Ron exclaimed himself.

"Your birthday's in two days?" Harry exclaimed himself, making me jump. I forgot he was beside me.

"WHAT?!" the three Weasleys exclaimed themselves as I felt my cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

"Sh-she's blushing!" Fred exclaimed himself. My eyes widened in shock. I'm blushing? I never blushed before.

"She is, Fred. You're right," George said, as they both leaned in and each kissed my cheek. I was dumbstruck and only blushed harder.

"Why didn't you tell us it was going to be your birthday?" Harry asked. I looked down ashamed.

I only ever celebrated one birthday, and that was when my family was still alive. They died around nine months before I turned two years old, so I never got to celebrate another birthday ever again especially since I was held captive by the Adams. They didn't care, except for Alice and Annabelle, but I was forbidden to speak. Back with my pack, the way we had celebrated my birthday was simple; we made a family dinner, no more, no less. So I had no idea how anyone else celebrated their birthdays.

"Can we eat the cake?" Ron asked. I couldn't hold it in anymore. I giggled, shocking the lives out of them.

"Yes, you can," I whispered, still looking down. Dumbstruck, they each helped themselves to a piece of cake and put a piece aside for me. I took a bite before grabbing my last present.

I unwrapped it and saw a black jewelry box. I lifted the lid and gasped.

There was a necklace and earings amethyst purple diamond as their jewels. This must've been expensive. There was a note.

_Dear Deli,_

_Is it alright if I call you Lilly? Anyway, I really like you and I hope you like this gift; I wasn't sure what to get you._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Your friend Harry._

I looked up at my friends who were fork battling for the last three pieces of cake. I beamed at them and couldn't help but smile brightly. For the first time in forever, I finally had real friends. I didn't care how much trouble I would surely go through; I will protect them with my life. I got up and decided to do the thing I never thought I would do.

I walked up to Ron and kissed his cheek, making him go pink and stare at me in shock. Then I went to the twins, kissing their cheeks as well, making them stare at me in shock, too. Then I finally turned to Harry who was watching me with wide eyes. When he noticed I was looking back, he blushed and quickly looked a away. I smiled and walked over to him. He turned to look at me and I shocked him by kissing his cheek as well.

"Thank you," I said to all of them, smiling brightly. They stared at me with their mouths hanging open in shock before one by one starting to smile back at me. But then my smile faded.

"What's wrong?" they all asked at the same time.

I pouted. "I did not know I was going to get presents. If I knew, I would have gotten you all some too."

"That's alright," Fred said.

"You smiling and talking is just fine," George added as the other three nodded, smiling.

I frowned. "Maybe for you, but not for me."

I brought my wand out and placed a hand on my hip, thoughtfully.

"You look cute when you frown," Fred said. My eyes widened as I blushed and looked down, letting my hair hide it.

"And when you blush," George added as I blushed harder.

I flicked my wand and more presents appeared under the tree; I just thought about them. I got a large book for Hermione, new gloves for Quidditch keeper for Wood and a magical golden badge for Percy— it changes from his name to the Gryffindor logo. Fred and George opened theirs first and high-fived each others.

"Pranking tools and Beater clubs! Alright!" they exclaimed themselves, coming to kiss my cheeks again. Then Ron open his and his face lit up.

"A basket with never ending sweets! Wicked!" He kissed my cheek as well. The Weasleys went up to their dorm to put their gifts away, leaving Harry and I alone. I watched as he slowly unwrapped his gift. I got him a replica of the snitch. His face lit up as he came over to me.

He kissed my cheek and surprised me by pulling me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my waist. I was completely shocked and flinched. I didn't know what to do, how to react.

**Harry's P.O.V.**

The Weasleys went up to their dorm to put their gifts away, leaving Delilah and I alone. I felt her watching me as I slowly unwrapped my gift. My face instantly lit up when i saw what it was. She got me a replica of the snitch.

I went to kiss her cheek and surely surprised her when pulling her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her waist. She seemed completely shocked and flinched that I started feeling guilty. She gripped my arms tightly, probably panicking internally. What was I thinking? She would never like someone like me. She's too perfect.

"Deli, I'm sorry. I'll never harm you I promise," I whispered quickly, not wanting to let go of her.

She whimpered, but it wasn't of pain. It was of fright.

"Del, please believe me…" I whispered.

She pulled back a bit and looked into my pleading face.

"I have never been hugged before…" she whispered back. Her eyes widened as she quickly covered her mouth. She obviously didn’t mean to say it aloud.

" _Delilah's never been hugged? Maybe that’s why she stiffened_ …" I thought incredulously.

I held her closer to my chest.

"I’m sorry." I whispered. "I don't know what you've been through, but I honestly wish I was there, for you."

To my great surprise she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in the crook of my neck as I buried mine in hers. We stayed this way for a long while.

After a few minutes passed, she sighed. "So this is what a hug feels like," she murmured.

I chuckled. "Yeah. Honestly, in all my life, I've only been hugged once, and I don't really remember how it was. It's good to know how it feels now though," I commented. My heart literally stopped when I heard her giggle.

"Deli?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I call you Lilly?" She stiffened. "What's wrong?"

"My dad was the last and only person to call me that," she whispered.

"Oh," was all I said, feeling guilty. I know Lilly was my mom's name, I wanted to have an excuse to be able to say it. Plus, Delilah is as strong as a rock yet as delicate as a flower, a lily.

"You can call me that if you want," she whispered. I was overjoyed and tightened my grip on her waist.

After a few moments of silence I heard a small voice say, "Harry?"

I looked up and realized we were standing under a mistletoe. I looked down at her to see her smiling a small smile at me.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered before shocking me with so many emotions.

She grabbed my face and kissed me.

I was overwhelmed, overjoyed, but confused at the way she proceeded. Her hands were soft on my face and her warm lips were gentle, unexpectedly hesitant. It was brief, but very, very sweet.

I was the happiest boy in the world.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

"You can call me that if you want," I whispered, looking up. My eyes widened as I saw a mistletoe appearing above our heads.

After a few moments of silence I smiled a small smile said in a small voice, "Harry?"

He looked up and realized we were standing under a mistletoe. He looked down at me and saw me smiling.

"Merry Christmas," I whispered, before doing what I never thought I would do.

I grabbed his face and kissed him. I kissed Harry Potter.

I was confused. I had no idea how to proceed, so I went gently and hesitantly. It was brief, but very, very sweet. But I couldn't help but feel like this was right, yet completely wrong. I felt like a traitor. My first kiss was supposed to be reserved for my mate, Chance. The moment I was born, I always wanted him to be my first at everything. But what about what my grandma told me. Could there really be second chances at mate? If yes, could Harry be my second chance at mate? I feel this indescribable connection with him that makes this feel right, but makes me feel unsure. Maybe I should simply take it slow, after all, it may just be a... _crush_ he has on me. But would that explain how I feel?

~~*~~

After a smiling Harry happily went up to his dorm to put his gifts away, I settled in on the armchair and fell asleep.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady, waking me up. I frowned as I left the common room. I had noticed Harry get his father's invisibility cloak earlier this morning. Still frowning, I waved my wand over me, making myself invisible before following him, using my super hearing and soul aura.

Great. He's heading towards the library. I should've known he wouldn't give up on that.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. I saw Harry's lamp that looked as if it was floating along in midair. He disappeared into the Restricted Section which was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, I followed the floating lantern.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. I saw Harry light up a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair. He made his way towards The Restricted Section which was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, I followed distantly behind as he held up his lamp to read the titles. I had already been here with grandpa D., so I knew what was in here and what the books looked like and what was said in them.

They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One of these books even had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood.

Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for a book. A large black and silver volume was suddenly pulled out  that was all too familiar to me and my eyes widened as I gasped.

Shoot, shoot, crazy gun, shoot!

" _No Harry!_ " I wanted to scream, but it was too late.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence— the book was screaming! Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once.

I heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside. Even though I couldn't see him I knew he wouldn't stay here as I ran for it as well. I passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through me, and I slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in my ears. Why that book Harry?

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section."

Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see me, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into me. I noticed the door that stood to my left open slightly and shut. Harry? Quickly following into the room I gasped slightly. I knew where I was. It was _that_ room.

Just like in the dream, the dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket— but propped against the wall facing me was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

Now I knew what it was.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Harry moved nearer to the mirror, as his cloak fell from him. He stepped in front of it. I watched not that far behind him.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His eyes were surprised as he turned slowly back to the mirror. Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispered. "Dad?" I felt my heart ache. I narrowed my eyes and peeked into his mind.

That's when I saw them.

His family.

Harry pressed his hands flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. I've tried, and unfortunately you can't move into the mirror. There was a distant noise brought us back to our senses.

"I'll come back," he whispered and hurried from the room. When he was gone, I became visible again as I cautiously stepped towards the mirror. I knew what I would see as I felt my breath get caught up in my throat. My heart raced as I glanced at the reflection.

I was happy. And they were there.

My mom and dad, my brothers... my pack.

Chance...

I was truly happy there... happy like I probably never would be again.

My parents young and healthy stood to my right smiling and laughing with me. Chance was standing on my left with an arm around my waist, kissing my cheek. My brothers were there behind, smiling like the idiots they were that I loved so much. And my pack was right behind us all.

My grandparents were there too, alive and smiling.

They were all proud of me, for becoming a good alpha. But what made me dream for this more were their words.

"I'm proud of you, Lilly."

It felt so real.

I slipped to my knees, my hand pressed against the glass to remind me that this can't be. I glanced up once more to my dad, he was kneeling at me in the reflection, he kissed the glass as if to kiss my forehead and he looked like he wanted to hug me.

I wanted to cry as I knew I could never experience that sort of love from him ever again. As I knew he would never be able to walk me down the aisle, saying _'I'm proud of you'_. As I knew that I would never be able to walk down the aisle and meet Chance at the other side, that my brothers wouldn't be my best men, that my mother wouldn't be there in the front row, smiling at me and crying out of joy with me when I say 'I do'. That my pack would never be at the celebration when I'd be named alpha, because I never will be.

Not anymore.

I felt like I was whole, though as I dropped my hands from the glass my heart ached. I felt suddenly like everything had been ripped from me once more. I glanced back at the mirror once more.

"I should not have left. Why did you have to leave?" My voice was broken as I heard the door open. I didn't move as Harry and Ron ran towards the mirror.

"Lilly?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Lilly?" Ron asked, puzzled by the nickname.

I didn't answer and just moved. I nodded at Harry. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to show his family to Ron. My heart broke even more as I imagined how broken he'd be when he realized they weren't really there.

"See?" Harry whispered.

"I can't see anything," Ron replied.

"Look! Look at them all... there are loads of them...."

"I can only see you."

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

Harry stepped aside, and put Ron in front of the mirror. Ron, was staring transfixed at his image.

"Look at me!" he said.

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No— I'm alone— but I'm different— I look older— and I'm head boy!"

"What?"

"I am— I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to— and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup— I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry.

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead—"

"It does not show the future," I said, lowly, but loud enough for them to hear. "I saw my family there, too. And they are dead."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Let me have another look—"

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents."

"Don't push me—"

I heard a sudden noise outside they gasped at how loud they would have been.

"Quick!" Ron whisper-shouted. They both pulled me to my feet and threw the cloak over us as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. After what seemed an age, she turned and left.

"This isn't safe— she might have gone for Filch, I bet she heard us. Come on."

And Ron pulled us out of the room.

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning.

"Want to play chess, Harry?" said Ron.

"No." Ron looked at me and I shook my head.

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No... you go..."

"I know what you're thinking about, Harry, Del, that mirror. Don't go back tonight."

I frowned. "Why not?" Harry asked.

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it— and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermione."

"I'm serious, Harry, don't go." Harry should listen to Ron. But I know Harry would go back either way.

That third night i heard the portrait open and I instantly knew he was going. I made myself invisible and ran after him.

He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, though i still followed behind, knowing he was lucky he didn't meet anyone, tonight.

Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family.

Except—

"So— back again, Harry?"

I felt as though my insides had turned to ice. Harry looked behind him and i followed his gaze. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. I made no sound, though I knew that grandpa D. knew that I was here.

"— I didn't see you, sir."

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said grandpa D., and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling.

"So," said grandpa D., slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does? A close friend of yours has, after all. Isn't that right, Delilah?"

I cursed in my mind before making myself visible— I didn't want Harry to know I was here.

He stared at me in shock before blushing. "It— well— it shows me my family—" he stammered.

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy."

"How did you know—?"

"Delilah isn't the only one who doesn't need a cloak to become invisible," said grandpa D. gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want... whatever we want..."

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up and walked over to me.

"Sir— Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Harry stared.

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

It was only when I was back in bed that I knew that grandpa D. had not been truthful. I guess it was for Harry's sake. But it had been quite a personal question, after all.


	14. Nicolas Flamel

Harry told me he wished he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he couldn't. He started having nightmares. Over and over again he dreamed about his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter. I, on the other hand, started having my own nightmares, again.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ron, when Harry told us about these dreams.

Hermione, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. She was torn between horror at the idea of Harry being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that he hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harry was still sure he'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harry had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again. I was so relieved, but slightly frustrated.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harry and I were on Wood's side. If we won our next match, against Hufflepuff, we would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, I found that I had fewer nightmares when I was tired out after training. Mainly because I slept less.

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will you stop messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George really did fall off his broom at these words.

"Snape's refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

The rest of the team landed next to George to complain, too. I didn't care. Snape never did anything to me. All I wanted right now was for this practice to end so I could leave, go to the forbidden forest and phase. I haven't phased in a long time and I'm getting constant fevers because of it. I need air.

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harry and I headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione ever lost at, something Harry and Ron thought was very good for her.

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen—" He caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other two about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

"Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron. I slapped Ron on the back of his head.

"I can't," said Harry. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

At that moment Neville toppled into the common room. How he had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because his legs had been stuck together with what we recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower.

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermione, who leapt up and performed the counter curse, and I. Neville's legs sprang apart and he got to his feet, trembling.

"What happened?" Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry, Ron and I.

"Malfoy," said Neville shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

I snapped. " _Ego sum ita futurum lacero id albus versisque, album caput lama, absque!_ " **(I am so going to rip that pale faced, white headed vampire, apart!)** I muttered, so low no one could hear me, as I made my way to the portrait hole. But soon, I was stopped by a pair of arms that wrapped themselves around my waist.

"Calm down," Harry whispered in my ear. I obeyed, breathing heavily.

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged Neville. "Report him!"

Neville shook his head.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

Harry pulled out of the pocket of his robes a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might cry.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin." Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.

"Thanks, Harry... I think I'll go to bed.... D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard card.

"Dumbledore again," he said, "He was the first one I ever—"

He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up at Ron and Hermione.

"I've found him!" he whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here— listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

I groaned. I knew they would eventually find what they were looking for, but it still frustrated me. The looked at me questioningly.

" _You really want to know about Nicolas Flamel?_ " I thought to them. Their widened before they nodded. I still didn't really talk. The only ones who have heard me talk are the Weasley twins, Harry, Ron and Hermione. At least they don't hover over it. A few other Gryffindors have heard me mumble of mutter here and there, now and then, but they have never heard me properly, so they think they were just imagining it.

I sighed. " _I guess it is better you know now_." I sighed again and sat down on the sofa, Harry sat beside me. I looked down at my hands and frowned. " _Nicolas Flamel is the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone. It is a very powerful stone. The stone can transform any metal into gold. It can also produce the Elixir of Life, which will make the one who drinks, immortal_."

I looked up at Hermione and thought, " _Hermione, I think you got a book a few weeks ago. The information is in there. Would you mind bringing it down?_ "

Hermione nodded eagerly and jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since we'd gotten back the marks for our very first piece of homework.

"Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, I rolled my eyes as Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself.

At last she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it! Deli, you were right!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Harry and Ron. I face-palmed myself.

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read?" Hermione said. "Look— read that, there."

She pushed the book toward them, and Harry and Ron read:

**The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.**

**There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).**

"See?" said Hermione, when Harry and Ron had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Sorcerer's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ron. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

They turned to look at me.

I sighed. " _They were not supposed to know about this. I am so getting fired, now,"_ I thought to myself before thinking to them _. "Yes, Fluffy is guarding the stone; yes, Nicolas is six hundred and sixty-five; yes, he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him; yes, they are friends and someone did want the stone that is why it was moved from Gringotts and hidden in school; no, Snape is not the one who is after it_."

"It is Sn—"

" _Just because you saw him limping around on Halloween does not mean he is the one who is after the stone, Ronald_ ," I snapped into his head, with a scowl on my face before storming off to my room.

~~*~~

Our match against Hufflepuff was successful. We won and I was glad I didn't break my arm this time. What I was worried about was Harry. After the match, he was unseen. Even Ron and Hermione didn't know where he was and I was starting to have a feeling that I was going to end up being fired from my job.

I'm the worst soul guardian ever. And Harry's curiosity doesn't help me one bit.

Ron, Hermione and I were waiting for him. Suddenly _'The boy who lived'_ that I will probably strangle, came walking hurriedly towards us.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron, thumping Harry on the back."And I gave Malfoy a black eye, and Neville tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! He's still out cold, but Madam Pomfrey says he'll be all right— talk about showing Slytherin! Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens."

"Never mind that now," said Harry breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this...."

He made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind us, then he told us what he'd seen and heard.

"So we were right, it is the Sorcerer's Stone, and Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy— and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocuss— I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" said Hermione in alarm.

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ron.

It's not Snape. As much as I dislike the man, I just know it.


	15. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Snape was sweeping about in his usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harry passed Quirrell these days he gave him an encouraging sort of smile, and Ron had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter.

Hermione, however, had more on her mind than the Sorcerer's Stone. She had started drawing up study schedules and color-coding all her notes. Harry and Ron wouldn't have minded, but she kept nagging them to do the same. She didn't nag me because she knew I didn't need it. She knew I had my own way of proceeding successfully in school.  

"Hermione, the exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel." I nodded. I decided to give up on keeping them from knowing about the stone. They already knew too much, but I wasn't going to tell them any more. I was going to let them find out on their own. If their lives go in stake, then I'll help and tell.

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ron reminded her. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it."

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me...."

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermione. They piled so much homework on us that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harry and Ron spent most of their free time in the library with her, trying to get through all their extra work. As usual, I tagged along silently.

"I'll never remember this," Ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day we'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming.

Harry, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until he heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

"Jus' lookin'," he said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" He looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ron impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Sorcerer's St—"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

He looked at me as I shrugged. " _I_ _tried_ _to stop them_ ," I thought to him.

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harry, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy—"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen— come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh—"

"See you later, then," said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

"What was he hiding behind his back?" said Hermione thoughtfully.

I frowned. Hermione's right, what was he hiding? Hagrid never comes to the library. Why would he come now?

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

I shook my head and thought to them, " _I don't think so_."

"I'm going to see what section he was in," said Ron, who'd had enough of working. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" he whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide."

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, he told me so the first time I ever met him," said Harry.

"But it's against our laws," said Ron. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden— anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania."

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain?" said Harry.

"Of course there are," said Ron. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget."

"So what on earths Hagrid up to?" said Hermione.

"I think he is breeding one. A new-born," I whispered.

~~*~~

When we knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, we were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed.

Hagrid called "Who is it?" before he let us in, and then shut the door quickly behind us.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made us tea and offered us stoat sandwiches, which we refused.

"So— yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harry. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Sorcerer's Stone apart from Fluffy."

My three friends looked at me, and I think I surprised them when I didn't react badly or speak. I shrugged, turning to look at the fire. I already knew who had made the obstacles. I didn't know what they were, but I knew who planned what, in the exact order. I also already knew how to get past Fluffy so, I didn't need to worry.

Hagrid frowned at him.

"O' course I can't," he said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts— I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and we could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really."

Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry and Ron beamed at Hermione.

"Well, I don' s'ppose it could hurt ter tell yeh that... let's see... he borrowed Fluffy from me... then some o' the teachers did enchantments... Professor Sprout— Professor Flitwick— Professor McGonagall—" he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell— an' Dumbledore himself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."

Wait for it...

"Snape?"

There.

"Yeah— yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it."

I knew exactly what Harry, Ron and Hermione were thinking. If Snape had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. He probably knew everything— except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy. Now, I was in doubts. I had a feeling that it wasn't Snape, but anyone can be wrong. It can be him, just like it can't.

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. Aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore an'—" said Hagrid, cutting himself off.

I gave him a warning look, but the others saw it. I was relieved when they didn't hover over it.

"Well, that's something," Harry muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can wehave a window open? I'm boiling."

"Can't, Harry, sorry," said Hagrid. Harry noticed him glance at the fire. Harry looked at it, too. I followed his gaze and had to fight back a smile.

"Hagrid— what's that?" Harry asked.

But I already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Hagrid..." I murmured, admiring the egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, "That's er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it has hatched?" I asked softly.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library— Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit— it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on I em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here— how ter recognize diff'rent eggs— what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them." He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire. So now we had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermione had now started making study schedules for Harry and Ron, too. It was driving them nuts.

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching. Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.

"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing—"

"Shut up!" Harry whispered.

Malfoy was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? I didn't like the look on Malfoy's face at all.

Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with us during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of our lesson, the four of us dropped our trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted us, looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered us inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. We all drew our chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harry thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes. It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. I couldn't help but smile at that.

He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!"

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?" Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face— he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains— it's a kid— he's runnin' back up ter the school."

I bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking me.

Malfoy had seen the dragon.

Something about the smile lurking on Malfoy's face during the next week made Harry, Ron, Hermione and I very nervous. We spent most of our free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with him.

"Just let him go," Harry urged. "Set him free."

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die."

We looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing his game-keeping duties because the dragon was keeping him so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"He's lost his marbles," Ron muttered to us. I slapped him on the back of his head.

"Hagrid," said Harry loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment."

Hagrid bit his lip. "I— I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't."

Harry suddenly turned to Ron. "Charlie," he said.

"You're losing it, too," said Ron. "I'm Ron, remember?" I face-palmed myself. I knew exactly what Harry was trying to say.

"No— Charlie— your brother, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take care of him and then put him back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ron. "How about it, Hagrid?" And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask him.

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night Hermione, Harry and I were sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ron appeared out of nowhere as he pulled off Harry's invisibility cloak. He had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping him feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate.

"It bit me!" he said, showing them his hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. I went over to him, patted his shoulder, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to a sofa.

"I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby."

There was a tap on the dark window. "It's Hedwig!" said Harry, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!" The four of us put our heads together to read the note.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter— I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark. Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love, Charlie_

I frowned and pulled away. They looked at one another.

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It shouldn't be too difficult— I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert."

I sighed. They are _so_ going to need my help. "I am going to help," I said in a calm, soft voice. They were looked at me surprised— that I talked and that I said I was going to help.

"You?" Ron asked.

I nodded before taking a deep breath. "Look, I do not need to use the cloak. As you would have noticed already, I do not get into trouble anyway when I am caught out after dark. You three are my friends and if you get in trouble, then it would not harm anyone to add someone else now, would it?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

"Lilly..." Harry trailed off. I shook my head.

"Why do you speak so properly?" Ron muttered, but I ignored him.

"No excuses. I am not perfect, you know. And just because I am distant does not mean I have never been generous in my life," I said, getting slightly irritated at the way my voice sounded. Why did it have to sound like darn wind chimes? Why is it so soft? Darn it. "Besides, we need to get the dragon out of here as soon as possible."

They grinned and nodded in agreement before we all decided to head to bed.

~~*~~

By the next morning, Ron's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. He didn't know whether it was safe to go to Madam Pomfrey— would she recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, he had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous.

Harry, Hermione and I rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ron in a terrible state in bed.

I drew my wand out and wrote in the air, " _How is your hand?_ "

"It's not just my hand," he whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books so he could come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really bit me— I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me— I shouldn't have hit him at the Quidditch match, that's why he's doing this." Harry, Hermione and I tried to calm Ron down.

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermione, but this didn't soothe Ron at all. On the contrary, he sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat.

"Midnight on Saturday!" he said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no— I've just remembered— Charlie's letter was in that book Malfoy took, he's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert."

Harry and Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Madam Pomfrey came over at that moment and made us leave, saying Ron needed sleep.

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harry told us. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Malfoy doesn't know about that."

We found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when we went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to us.

"I won't let you in," he puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage— nothin' I can't handle." When we told him about Charlie's letter, his eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten him on the leg.

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot— jus' playin'— he's only a baby, after all."

~~*~~

It was a very dark, cloudy night, and we were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because we'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of our way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to me as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves.

I waved my wand as I heard them gasp.  

"Mommy will never forget you!"  

Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another— even one of Harry's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier.

" _Nearly there!_ " I thought to them as we reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. Then a sudden movement ahead of us made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that we were already invisible, we shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared. Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you—"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming— he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on— I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, we waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness. Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry, Hermione and I the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry, Hermione and I shook hands with the others and thanked them very much. At last, Norbert was going... going... gone. We'd slipped back down the spiral staircase, our hearts as light as our hands, now that Norbert was off us. No more dragon— Malfoy in detention— what could spoil our... happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As we stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower and I forgot to put myself invisible as well.


	16. The forbidden forest

Things couldn't have been any more worse than they were now.

Filch took us down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where we sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around my brain, each more feeble than the last. This was the first time I was in trouble and I couldn't see how we were going to get out of it. We were cornered. How could we have been so stupid as to forget the cloak and my invisibility spell? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for our being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and we might as well be packing our bags already.

Had I thought that things couldn't have been worse? I was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two.

"I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag—" Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen.

She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them. "I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. "I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall.

"It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?" I saw Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville— I knew what it must have cost him to try and find us in the dark, to warn us.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Five students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. You, Miss Hawkins, I wouldn't have such a foul behavior from you. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detentions— yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous— and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped— we would lose the lead, the lead we'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor— please. You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, we'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup.

What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done? At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of other stupid first years. I was offended. Sure, I was a first year, but I sure as Heaven wasn't stupid!

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harry was suddenly the most hated. I was wondering why they didn't mention me being there. It was confusing and sad to see. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere we went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as he walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Potter, we owe you one!"

Only Ron and I stood by him. "They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them."

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harry miserably.

"Well— no," Ron admitted. It was a bit late to repair the damage. I felt really bad for him though. He had felt so ashamed of himself that he went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

"Resign?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harry, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. I was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying I had to do kept my mind off my guilt and longing for a run. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I kept to ourselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions...

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy and I was listening distractedly. Harry told us what he'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron as I growled lowly. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding us. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could. "Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor— who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn’t. “If we just do a bit of poking around—"

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around." He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, Neville and I at the breakfast table.

They were all the same:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor McGonagall_

I had forgotten we still had detentions to do in the furor over the points we'd lost. I half expected Hermione to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but she didn't say a word.  

~~*~~

At eleven o'clock that night, we said good-bye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there— and so was Malfoy. I had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading us outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at us. "Oh yes... hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me.... It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out... hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed.... Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

Okay... I was now officially creeped out by this creeper.

We marched off across the dark grounds. Neville kept sniffing. I wondered what our punishment was going to be. Probably just wandering around the forest, looking for things. The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, I could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then we heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Suddenly, Harry looked relieved. And his relief was really apparent in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy— it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night— there's all sorts of things in there— werewolves, I heard." Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward us out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione, Delilah?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid. “I’m not going in that forest," he said, and I was slightly pleased to hear the note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh’ve got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this—"

"He'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or Yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment." He led us to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted our hair as we looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff?"

"What is that, Hagrid?" I asked in a small, calm voice, surely shocking the two boys who have never heard me speak before.

"That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery," Hagrid answered.

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, Deli an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now— that's it— an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh— so, be careful— let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, Hagrid and I took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right. We walked in silence, our eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. I saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

We walked past a mossy tree stump. I could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter— GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak as I simply followed in a jump. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The four of us listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested. I tensed up. I hate werewolves. I don't know what those from here were like, but I sure hate the ones I've met before— excluding Alice and Annabelle.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

We walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself— I'm armed!" And into the clearing came— was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped. I gazed at it in amazement, dazzled by their golden auras.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?" He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter, Delilah Hawkins an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm—"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt— you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again." Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets." A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured— would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then." Harry, Hermione and I followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns— never heard anythin' like it before."

We walked on through the dense, dark trees. I kept looking nervously over my shoulder. I had the nasty feeling we were being watched. I was very glad we had Hagrid and his crossbow with us. We had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You three wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

We heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until we couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" Hermione whispered, grabbing my hand. "I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place."

The minutes dragged by. My ears seemed sharper than usual. What was going on? Where were the others? At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups— Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, Deli, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry and I, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

So Harry and I set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. We walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick.

"So you can speak, then," Malfoy said, all of a sudden. I didn't answer. I could smell the blood getting thicker. "You can, can't you?"

I signed in exasperation. "You heard me speak earlier, did you not? So stop asking questions," I snapped. We continued walking in silence. With my enhanced night vision, I could see there were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. I could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look—" Harry suddenly murmured, grabbing my hand and holding out his free arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. I had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

I had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made me freeze where I stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered.... Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, Fang and I stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!" Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted— so did Fang. I mentally face-palmed myself.

The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry— unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward him. I quickly got into a protective stance in front of Harry— he couldn't move for fear.

All of a sudden Harry grabbed his forehead, gasping ad panting.  

"Are you alright, Harry?" I asked softly, my eyes still on the hooded figure.

It was still over the unicorn's corpse, but when it looked up at me, it completely forgot about Harry and started approaching me. My eyes widened and I quickly made a run for it, but stopped when I realized Harry wasn't following.

"Harry, come on," I called out, but the figure was getting closer and stupid Malfoy had run off with the lamp.

The figure had now pasted Harry and was getting closer to me. "Harry, come on, please," I pleaded in a whisper.

It turned and started heading straight for Harry, but I sprinted in front of him. Next thing I knew, I was thrown into the sky and landed on none other than the cowardly Malfoy.

"How did you get all the way over here?" he asked, helping me up.

"That hooded figure threw me over here, but we must go back and help Harry," I said calmly, starting to walk away, but I was yanked back by the arm.

"You can't go back there, you'll get hurt or even worse killed," he said, and if my ears weren't mistaken his tone was caring and concerned about my free will.

"So? I would rather it would be me, than my best friend. I have to help him, and me talking to you is making his chances grow thinner by the second," I said, trying to yank my arm free unsuccessfully. "The seconds are ticking by, Draco. I have to go."

His eyes narrowed. "No. You'll die if you go back," he whispered.

His hand now on my chin— his fingers holding too tight, till it hurt.  

My eyes widened as I saw the resolve form abruptly in his icy blue-grey eyes. "N—" I started to object, but it was too late.

His lips crushed mine, stopping my protest. He kissed me angrily, roughly, his other hand gripping tight around the back of my neck, making escape impossible. His mouth was soft, despite the anger, his lips molding to mine in a cold, unfamiliar way.

I grabbed at his face and pushed him away, far enough for me to pull my arm back and then let it snap forward, punching him in the mouth with as much power as I could force out of my body.

There was a crunching sound.

"Ow! OW!" he screamed, frantically hopping up and down in agony while clutching his nose and mouth. It was broken, I knew it. Good for him.  

"Do not _ever_ try that again!" I shouted before turning away and sprinting off towards the direction I had been thrown from, previously. Many thoughts ran through my brain every second that passed.

Note to self: bleach mouth later.

I finally found the patch, saw the poor unicorn dead, and Harry talking to a centaur.

"The forest is not safe at this time— especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. My name is Firenze," he added, as he started lowering himself, but soon stopped when he saw me.

"You must be his _Curatoria_. Hawkins, is it?" he asked.

I nodded, stepping forward. "Delilah Hawkins."

He smiled kindly at me and lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry and I could clamber onto his back.

"Are you alright? That thing didn't fling you too hard, did it?" Harry asked me in a whisper.

I shook my head. "No, I landed in front of Malfoy and he helped me up..." I couldn't help but growl at the memory of what he did.

"What's wrong, Lilly?"

"I-I... nothing," I mumble.

"Don't tell me it's nothing. What's wrong, Delilah?"

I groaned. "He kissed me," I muttered.

"He did what?!" I slightly flinched at the way he shouted. "Oh, when I get my hands on him..."

"No need. I already broke his nose and... jaw, I think," I said lightly, but he didn't reply.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. And the girl is—"

" _Ego sum eius anima curatoria_ ," **(I am his soul guardian)** I said, cutting Firenze off.

He nodded. "And the quicker they leave this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane, not really bothered by me anymore. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger. "For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on. "Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could and me holding onto Harry, we plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind us.

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on. "Why's Bane so angry? And what is a c-curo-curoria?" he asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harry and I to keep our heads bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. We made our way through the trees in silence for so long that Harry probably thought Firenze didn't want to talk to him anymore. We were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harry Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harry, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze.

I sighted before continuing Firenze's explanation in a dark, low voice. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips." Firenze nodded in confirmation. Harry stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"But who'd be that desperate?" he wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, deaths better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else— something that will bring you back to full strength and power— something that will mean you can never die. Mr. Potter, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Sorcerer's Stone! Of course— the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who—" Sweet father of Eris! Don't scream, we're right here, Harry.

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

"Do you mean," Harry croaked, "that was Vol-"

"Harry! Deli, are you all right?" Hermione was running toward us down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Harry as I nodded stiffly, catching the sight of a bleeding Malfay and glaring at him. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back, first then carried me down. "Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times." He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest.

Silence followed h's departure, but was soon broken by Hermione. "Deli what happened to you? You have dirt, leafs, and sticks in your hair and on your face."

I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. I turned around to look at Harry, but he was not there. I spun my head back around only to see him storming towards Malfoy.

"How dare you," Harry said, going up and getting right in Malfoys face. "If you ever kiss her, or even touch her again, I will break your jaw for her. I will kill you," Harry threatened in a dark voice. I was slightly frightened— I have never seen him this way before.

But before Malfoy could say anything, Harry went and punched him, again.

"Harry! What did you do that for?" Hermione and Neville asked at the same time.

Harry turned around and growled, "He kissed her."

I was shaking furiously, old memories replaying through my head.

"He did what?" Hermione shrieked, every word filled with anger.

I was the angriest here. My body was heating up each second, it was a miracle I still hadn't exploded right here, into my wolf or fox.

"We must go," I said in a really dark voice that made them all swallow hard. "Goodnight, Hagrid."

"Night, Deli," he called back in a shaky voice as my fellow Gryffindors trailed quickly behind me.

~~*~~

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for us to return.

He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell him and Hermione what had happened in the forest and about what Malfoy did. His face turned red in anger. Harry was no ether. He couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. I was relieved when the subject was no longer about the pale faced idiot that thought it was okay to just kiss me.

Harry was still shaking. I grabby his hand and pulled him down onto the sofa. "Snape wants the stone for Voldemort... and Voldemort's waiting in the forest... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich...."

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear them. Harry wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so.... Bane was furious... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen.... They must show that Voldemort's coming back.... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me.... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.

"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."

Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort. "Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you nor Deli. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. We went to bed exhausted, our throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.


	17. Through the trapdoor

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where we did our written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuffbox— points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made everyone nervous, breathing down their necks while we tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.

Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down our quills and roll up our parchment, I couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as we joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager." Hermione always liked to go through our exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet." I felt a slight pain suddenly shoot through my neck. I quickly rose and hand and gently rubbed it, a small frown on my face.

Harry was rubbing his forehead. "I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting— it's happened before, but never as often as this."

" _You are not the only one_ ," I thought to him.

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming...."

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot. "Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded then signed as I rested my head on his shoulder.

Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. "Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?" Now that he mentions it... yes. It is odd.

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off. "No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off." He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head— that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he— did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "Well— yeah— how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep—" Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. I stared at him I'm shock. He shouldn't be telling them this.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey— where're yeh goin'?" Harry, Ron, Hermione and I didn't speak to each other at all until we came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak— it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

We looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing us in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived while I simply wasn't sure if he was even here, today.

"We'll just have to—" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?" It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do.  "Why?" Great, now what?

"It's sort of secret," he said, but I wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time—"

"But this is important."

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter."

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor— it's about the Sorcerer's stone—"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know—?" she spluttered. She looked at me, but I shook my head.

"Professor, I think— I know— that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore." She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."

"But Professor—"

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine." But we didn't.

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot.

"Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we—" Hermione gasped. Harry, Ron and I wheeled round.

Snape was standing there. "Good afternoon," he said smoothly. We stared at him. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were—" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed. We turned to go outside, but Snape called us back. "Be warned, Potter— any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you." He strode off in the direction of the staffroom. Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to us. 

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape— wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ron.

"You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong....'"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape. "Can't Deli come with me, then?"

"No. She never speaks to teachers. If she's with you, they'll get suspicious," Ron explained. "And besides, we need her." I blushed.

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on." But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had we reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"

Harry, Ron and I went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said. We stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering. "I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT?!" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?" He glared at them.

"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.

"All— all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."

"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled, too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that. And I doubt they'd expel, Deli. She's as good as me and even better here in school, and everyone from the staff, including Dumbledore, trusts her."

After dinner the four of us sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered us. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments we were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. I, as usual, didn't talk at all.

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed. "Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory.

He ran back down to the common room. "We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us— "

"I'll make myself invisible. You three will fit under the cloak more easily," I said in a low voice.

Harry nodded. "If Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own—"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.

Neville stared at their guilty faces. “You’re going out again," he said.

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?" Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. We couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate. "I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll— I'll fight you!"

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing." He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists.

"I'm ready!" Harry turned to Hermione. "Do something," he said desperately. Hermione stepped forward, but I already had my wand out...

**Harry's P.O.V.**

"I'm ready!" I turned to Hermione. "Do something," I said desperately. Hermione stepped forward, but Delilah already had her wand out.

"Neville," she said in a small voice. "I am really sorry about this." She raised her wand. "Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville. 

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. Delilah and Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at us in horror.

"What've you done to him?" I whispered.

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione.

"Oh, Neville, I am so sorry," Delilah whispered miserably

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," I said.

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as we stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak. In our nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in my ear, but I shook my head. As we climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamp like eyes on us, but didn't do anything.

A few minutes later, we were there, outside the third-floor corridor— and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," I said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy." Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of us what was facing us. Underneath the cloak, I turned to the other two and Delilah who was somewhere close behind, invisible.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Do not be so stupid," I head Delilah mutter.

"We're coming," Hermione and Ron said at the same time.

I pushed the door open. As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met our ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see us.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron.

"Snape must have left it there."

There was a silence as the harp kept playing. "Why is he breathing so heavily?" Delilah whispered. I turned from under the cloak and realized she had made herself visible again.

"Maybe—"

"Wait a minute, he's snoring," Ron said, cutting Hermione off.  

"How? It's still awake!" Hermione whisper-yelled.

"It must wake up completely the moment you stop playing," I said. "Well, here goes..."

I put Hagrid's flute to my lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. I hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased— it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned me as we slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor, Delilah trailing behind. We could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as we approached the giant heads.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing— just black— there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop." Just then, Delilah went and bent down as well, narrowing her eyes, to see what wa in there.

" _Vitis_ ," **(Vines)** she murmured.

I, still playing my flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at myself. I had to act quickly before Delilah decided to act before me.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."

I handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep. I climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom. I looked up one last time and realized Delilah was no longer there.

I looked at Ron. "Where's Delilah?" He gave me a puzzled look before looking around. His eyes widened in panic.

"I am down here," her goldenly wind chimed voice echoed from whatever was inside the trap door. "There are just plants down here. It is safe. Nothing is happening."  

"Why does she speak so properly?!" he exclaimed himself, earning a slap on the back of his head from Hermione. "Ow!"

Sighing, I lowered myself through the hole until I was hanging on by my fingertips.

Then I looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to us, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron. "See you in a minute, I hope..."

And I let go. Cold, damp air rushed past me as I fell down, down, down and— FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump I landed on something soft. I sat up and felt around, my eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though I was sitting on some sort of plant, just like Delilah had said.

"Lilly?" I whispered.

I heard a soft laugh that sounded like a chorus of bells. "I am right beside you, Harry. Relax. I am fine."

I signed in relief. I looked to my right ad saw Delilah's face inches from mine. I had to fight the urge to kiss her lips. "You're okay?"

"Yes, I am alright. Are you?"

I nodded. "It's okay!" I called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to us. "What's this stuff?" were his first words.

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!" The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on in front of us.

"We must be miles under the school..." she started worriedly, but her face instantly lit up when she saw Delilah. "Deli!"

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you both!" She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Ron and I, our legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without us noticing. The plant's vines suddenly reached for her and yanked her back to where she was, tangling around her.

I looked around, panicking, but then froze when I saw Delilah sitting calmly with the plant wrapping itself around her, it started wrapping around us and it looked as if it was choking Delilah.

Delilah was barely even noticeable except for her head and suddenly she was being dragged down.

"Deli!!!" we shouted. I struggled to get out, but nothing worked.

"Calm down, I am fine," she said in her calm mesmerizing voice. My insides were calm, but not my body. I needed to see her to make sure.

She sighed. "Stop moving!" she ordered us. "You need to calm down, all three of you, this is Devil's Snare you need t—"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.

"It's Devil's Snare?!" Hermione exclaimed herself. "Oh, now I can relax." I looked over and saw Hermione being sucked down like Delilah.

"Hermione!!" Ron and I shouted.

"Will you two calm down?" I heard Hermione say. But her voice wasn't soothing enough to calm us down.

"You need to calm down both of you, this is Devil's Snare you need to relax or it will kill you faster," Delilah explained.

"Kill us faster," Ron said. "Now what do we do?" he asked struggling.

"Do what I say and try to relax, trust me," Delilah said. I held my breath and felt myself getting sucked down.

"Harry!!" Ron yelled from above us.

"Lilly," I said once I stood and went and hugged her.

"I told you I was alright, did I not, Harry?" she said smiling, hugging me back hesitantly. Ron's right, she does speak properly.

"Help!" Ron yelled.

She sighed and pulled away. "He is not relaxing, is he?" she asked.

"Apparently not," I said looking up.

"Stop moving Ron it is Devil's Snare," she called out.

"Glad to know the name, again," Ron said.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!"  

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say— it likes the dark and the damp..." Hermione said.

"So light a fire!" I suggested.  

"Yes— of course— but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!" Ron said, "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?!?!?!"

Delilah face-palmed herself. "Oh, are you—" She whipped out her wand, waved it an shouted, "INCENDIO!" sending a jet of bluebell flames. In a matter of seconds, the plant started loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from Ron's body, fell down with a loud 'THUD'.

"Ron are you okay?" I asked helping him up.

"Yea," he said. "Wow. Lucky we didn't panic," Ron said looking up at the plant.

I looked at him. "Lucky Hermione and Delilah pay attention in Herbology," I said.

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry and Deli didn't lose their heads in a crisis— 'there's no wood,' honestly."

"This way," said Delilah, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All we could hear apart from our footsteps— mostly Hermione's, Ron's and mine... Delilah walks gracefully, so you can barely hear hers— was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and me was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, I remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If we met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon— Norbert had been bad enough...

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered. I listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. “Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead— I can see something moving."

We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," I said. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

I took a deep breath, covered my face with my arms, and sprinted across the room. I expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at me any second, but nothing happened. I reached the door untouched. I pulled the handle, but it was locked. The other three followed me. We tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione. They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering— glittering?

Delilah sighed. "They are not birds, they are keys." We looked at her dumbfounded. "Winged keys. We must find the one with a broken wing. It also has to be the oldest and biggest key."

"How do you—"

"Ask me no questions and I will answer no lies, Ronald. There are a lot of things I know, but can not tell. I already made the mistake by letting you find out about Flamel," she said in a cold voice. We all gulped at the way she spoke so distantly and cold.

I nodded nervously. "Winged keys— look carefully. So that must mean..." I looked around the chamber while the other Ron and Hermione squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes— look! A Broomstick! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" Ron examined the lock on the door.

"Biggest and oldest, Ron. We are looking for a big, old-fashioned one— probably silver, like the handle." She turned to look at me, beaming, which quite frankly was confusing me. She's got a lot of mood swings. "It is too simple." We looked at her questioningly.

"Harry, you are the best when it comes down to flying," she said proudly. It finally hit us what she was trying to say.

"Oh, go on, Harry. If Snape can catch one on that old broomstick, you can," Ron said "You’re the youngest seeker in a century." I looked down at the broom, then up at him and nodded.

"But there isn't only one broomstick," Hermione pointed out. "And we still haven't seen the key." We all looked at Delilah who was now adoringly narrowing her eyes as she looked up.

"There I see it," she said pointing, "there— no, there— with bright blue wings— the feathers are all crumpled on one side." We mounted our broomsticks and flew up.

Ron went speeding in the direction that Delilah was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" I called, not taking my eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above— Deli, from my opposite side— Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!" Ron dived, Delilah lunge forward and Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged the three of them, and I streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, I leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.

We landed quickly, and I ran to the door, the key struggling in my hand. I rammed it into the lock and turned— it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" I asked the three, my hand on the door handle.

They nodded. I pulled the door open. The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. But as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. We were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing us, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Ron, Hermione and I shivered slightly— the towering white chessmen had no faces— as Delilah simply stared dead ahead blankly.

"Now what do we do?" I whispered, inching my way towards Delilah and grabbing her hand. I was relieved when she didn't pull away and intertwined our fingers instead.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room." Behind the white pieces we could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we— er— have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to face us. "This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces...."

Delilah, Hermione and I stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you except for Deli are that good at chess—"

"We're not offended," I said quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you and Deli?"

"We're going to be knights," said Ron. The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words the two knights, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that Delilah, Ron, Hermione and I took.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares. Ron started to direct the black pieces. We moved silently wherever he sent us. My knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry— move diagonally four squares to the right." Our first real shock came when our other knight was taken, knocking Delilah out cold. The white queen smashed her to the floor and dragged the horse off the board, leaving Delilah's motionless body to simply lay there in the middle of the board.

"Deli!" Hermione and I shouted.

"Deli..." Ron chocked out. He cursed under his breath. "Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of our men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Hermione and I were in danger.

He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as we had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think, let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him. "Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"Wait a minute," I said.

"You understand Harry that when I make my move, the Queen will take me," Ron said, "then you’re free to check the King."

"No, Ron, No," I shouted.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"He's going to sacrifice himself," I said.

"No, you can't. We already lost Deli... there must be another way," Hermione said.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me— that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"NO!" Hermione and I shouted.

"Do you wanna stop Snape from getting that Stone or not?" Ron asked her.

"But—"

"Harry it's you that has to go on, not me, not Hermione, not Deli, but you."

"Ron—"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!" There was no alternative. "Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined.

"Here I go— now, don't hang around once you've won." He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor— Hermione screamed but stayed on her square— the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Hermione was about to rush over to him. "No, stop. The game is not over," I told her.

Shaking, I moved three spaces to the left. "Check Mate," I said.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at my feet. We had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron and Delilah, Hermione and I charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's—?"

"He'll be all right," I said, trying to convince myself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

We had reached another door. "All right?" I whispered.

"Go on."

I pushed it open. A disgusting smell filled our nostrils, making both of us pull our robes up over our noses. Eyes watering, we saw, flat on the floor in front of us, a troll even larger than the one we had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," I whispered as we stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

I pulled open the next door, both of us hardly daring to look at what came next, but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," I said. "What do we have to do?"

We stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind us in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. We were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. I looked over her shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

 

Hermione let out a great sigh and I, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing I felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic—"

"It is logic," said a voice from behind us. The voice that sounded like golden wind chimes— the voice I had already been longing to hear since we left the chess board. Hermione and I slowly turned around and couldn't help but shout out of joy.

"Deli!" Hermione squealed as I happily shouted, "Lilly," at the same time. I felt so relieved that she was alright.

Sh grinned a grin I never thought I would ever get the chance to see on her face before limping her way over to us, clutching her... right arm. "— it is a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards have not got an ounce of logic, they would be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermione, grinning.

Delilah nodded. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute." Delilah read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire— toward the Stone."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

Delilah shrugged. "It's half empty," she said. 

I looked at the tiny bottle. "There's only enough there for one of us," I said. "That's hardly one swallow."

We looked at each other. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Hermione came closer and pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," I said. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy— go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry— what if You-Know-Who's with him?" Hermione asked.

"Well— I was lucky once, wasn't I?" I said, pointing at my scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at me and threw her arms around me.

"Hermione!"

"Harry— you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," I said, very embarrassed, as she let go of me.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things— friendship and bravery and— oh, Harry— be careful!"

"You drink first," I said. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive, and Deli is too," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" I said anxiously.

"No— but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck— take care."

"GO!" Hermione turned, gave the bottle to Delilah and walked straight through the purple fire.

I took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. I turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," I said, lifting the bottle to my lips, but I was stopped mid-way. I looked back to see Delilah's hand over mine, stopping me from drinking the potion.

"I am coming with you!" she declared.

"Lilly I—" she grabbed my face and made me look at her.

"No, Harry James Potter. I am coming with you. Do you want to know what meant what I said back in the forbidden forest, the other day, in detention?" I nodded. " _Anima_ _Curatoria_ , means soul guardian. That is the main reason I accepted to come to Hogwarts in the first place. My job was and still is to protect you, Harry. It is my job to keep you alive. Hermione is capable of getting help, you on the other hand need me! So I am coming!" she said herself, and I couldn't help it anymore— I crashed my lips onto hers, wrapping my arms around her waist. She surprised me when she responded by wrapping her thin arms around my neck and kissing me back.

This has been what I've wanted for so long, and now that I had it, I was a little scared. I was scared that I might lose her.

Slowly we pulled apart and rested our foreheads against each other's. "I've been wanting to do that for a while, now," I admitted, blushing.

She smiled. "We should go," she said softly. I nodded as she pulled away.

She grabbed the bottle from my hand and took a tiny sip out of it before passing it back to me. "Will it be enough?" I asked. She nodded.

I took a deep breath before draining the little bottle in one gulp. It was indeed as though ice was flooding my body.

I put the bottle down and looked back at Delilah. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready. Together?" I asked.

She grabbed my hand and smiled. "Together," she said, with a nod as we walked forward; I braced myself, saw the black flames licking our bodies, but couldn't feel them— for a moment I could see nothing but dark fire, and I was glad to be holding Delilah's hand— then we were on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there— but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.


	18. The man with two faces

**Still Harry's P.O.V.**

It was Quirrell.

"You!" I gasped.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. "Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"Oh— I knew there was something wrong about you," Delilah muttered.

"I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here too, Miss Hawkins," he said lightly.

"Yes, sure. Well I am wondering whether I can kill you right now, or not," she replied icily.

"But I thought— Snape—"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

I couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't. "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

"If you want to kill Harry, you will have to kill me too," Delilah said, stepping into a protective stance in front of me.

"Gladly," Quirrell responded. He snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around me.

"Shoot... forgot about that spell," Delilah muttered, who was soon pinned onto the floor by an invisible force and tied up by ropes as well.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls— you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off— and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that I realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All I could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror. "I saw you and Snape in the forest—" I blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. "I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

I struggled against the ropes binding me, but they didn't give. I had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror. “But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing— I thought Snape was threatening you...." For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions— he is a great wizard and I am weak—"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Delilah gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..." Quirrell's voice trailed away.

I was remembering my trip to Diagon Alley— how could I have been so stupid? I'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

My mind was racing. What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment is to find the Stone before Quirrell does and get out of here with Delilah. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it— which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to? I tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around my ankles were too tight: I tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored me.

He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to my horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. "Use the boy... Use the girl..." Quirrell rounded on us.

"Yes— Potter, Hawkins— come here." He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding me fell off. I got slowly to my feet and went to help Delilah as well.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him and soon he was standing nervously beside me. Quirrell moved close behind us. I breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. I closed my eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

I watched as I saw Harry, pale and scared-looking. Then as I averted my gaze to the second figure and my eyes widened. This was the first time I had ever seen my reflection. I didn't go studying it, though. I simply stared at the mirror's reflection of us. I was pale, though I didn't look scared like Harry, I looked... simply worried. But a moment later, my reflection smiled at us. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone into Harry's pocket and that was when I knew Harry had the stone in his pocket, making my insides soften.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I— I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"What do you see?"

I looked at him expressionlessly and decided to tell him what I had seen the first time I confronted this mirror. "I see a life, one that I could never have since Voldemort was the first to rob part of it from me." I, then, mentally 'Stupefied' him in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall. He was knocked out cold of a while, as I unexpectedly collapse onto the ground. I hadn't realized how exhausted I had been until now.

Harry helped me up. "Get out of here, Harry," I warned him as he looked at me worried.

"What about you?" he asked as I shook my head.

"It does not matter he can not get the stone," I told him as he nodded and started running. Just then I heard a groan. I turned around and saw Quirrell looked furious.

He raised his wand pointing it at Harry.

"Keep the girl…" the sickening voice whispered as I gasped as Harry turned shocked and confused.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted as I jumped in the spells direction. I felt a rip through my chest as I gasped, before my eyes closed and I felt myself falling down... down...

**Harry's P.O.V. again**

"NO!" Both Quirrell and I shouted when Delilah fell to the floor. I was frozen before I ignored her request and ran to her side. Why was I even going to leave her in the first place? Darn it! I had been afraid of losing her, but now, I really have lost her.

"You saved me... Deli, why..." I whispered as I reached her body, rolling her onto her back. I placed my fingers to the right of her neck praying she would be alive, though I felt nothing as tears sprung into my eyes. I glanced back up at Quirrell when the high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this...."

I felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting me to the spot. I couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, I watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

I would have screamed, but I couldn't make a sound as I held onto Delilah' delicate body. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face I had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered. I tried to take a step backward but my legs wouldn't move and I didn't want to leave Delilah. I was only barely able to get to my feet.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own.... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So I knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into my legs. I stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" I shouted suddenly. Quirrell was walking backward at me, so that Voldemort could still see me. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching..." it hisses. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... and so was that little friend of yours... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her and Delilah to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

I sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, I felt Quirrell's hand close on my wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across my scar; my head felt as though it was about to split in two; I yelled, struggling with all my might, and to my surprise, Quirrell let go of me. The pain in my head lessened— I looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers— they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking me clean off my feet' landing on top of me, both hands around my neck— my scar was almost blinding me with pain, yet I could see Quirrell howling in agony.

Suddenly, Quirrell was thrown off of me and away from whatever was causing him pain.

I looked up and saw ... Delilah? But... I thought— she was— I saw—

"Are you alright?" she whispered, dropping own beside me. Confused, I nodded. Before I could ask her, someone grabbed her neck. She was flung backwards. Quirrell held her neck and pinned her to the floor, choking her. She was flailing around in the attempt to get him off her. She, then kicked him in the stomach, knocking him off, and lunged forward, punching him in the face. Suddenly her eyes widened in horror as she clutched her neck, fell down onto her knees, and just then, that searing pain returned to my forehead.

The big hands were once again around my neck, chocking the life out of me. Quirrell was trying to hand-kill me, yet was once again howling in agony... what was causing him pain?

"Master, I cannot hold him— my hands— my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning me to the ground with his knees, let go of my neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms— I could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but I, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face—

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off me, his face blistering, too, and then I knew: Quirrell couldn't touch my bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain— my only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

I jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as I could. I was soon joined by Delilah who pressed her hands to his chest and stomach and got the same results as me. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw us off— the pain in my head was building— I couldn't see— I could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in my own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!" I felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from my grasp.

He collapsed to the floor. I gasped in surprise. I looked at my own hands and hurried over to the stone. I picked it up slowly and sighed, as Delilah was slowly making her way towards me. I ran to her, meeting her half way, and before she could say anything, I started checking her pulse and the visible parts of her body, but she instantly wrenched away, shaking her head. I suddenly heard something. Turning, I saw a dust cloud appear with Voldemort's face molded into it. The cloud rushed forward, and just as it was coming for me, Delilah stepped in front of me and it went right through her!

She fell backwards and I instantly caught her just as she was about to hit the floor.

"Lilly! Lilly!" I shouted, but suddenly I couldn't hold myself up anymore. With Delilah in my arms, knowing that if she was gone, all was lost for me, I fell into blackness, down... down... down...


	19. Going... home

**Still Harry's P.O.V.**

Something gold was glinting just above me. The Snitch! I tried to catch it, but my arms were too heavy. I blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. I blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above me.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. I stared at him.

Then I remembered. "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I—"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

I swallowed and looked around me. I realized I must be in the hospital wing. I was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and to my right was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. "Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you, Delilah and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

Suddenly, I heard a beeping noise beside me, as I turned my head and saw lying on the bed next to me. Delilah.

"Sir, is she… she saved my life… and I... I never go to say thank you... and... will she—" I managed as I glanced at Dumbledore who was looking at Delilah as if he was ready to cry. I had never seen him look so lost or broken, but a small smile escaped on his lips as it made me slightly frown. Why is he smiling?

"Hopefully one day you can say it in person Harry." He smiled weakly as my frown deepened.

"Only two people have ever survived the killing curse _once_ , and that's the both of you, Harry. Now is appears one can survive it twice. Delilah did die, but somehow when I came to find both of you, her heart was still beating. She is currently in a coma… one which even I don't know if she will come out of," Dumbledore explained as I gulped, looking over at the most beautiful girl in the world, who saved my life. Why couldn't I save her life for once?

She could forever sleep and not know how thankful I would be toward her. A small whimper broke me from my thoughts as I saw Atlas, her phoenix, fly to the bed, with a letter in his beak. He nestled himself protectively beside the right side of her body, digging his way under the palm of her hand. I could have sworn I saw her hand move slightly, but thought I only imagined it.

"What happened to her scar? Did she get another one?" I asked him. He nodded. I tried to understand everything that happened but it made my head pound, so I stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did Deli and I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone— find it, but not use it— would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes.... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them— but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!" before leaving the hospital wing.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came in to check up on me. She was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," I pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around me again, but I was glad she held herself in as my head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to— Dumbledore was so worried—"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?" he asked, sadly eyeing Delilah.

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. I told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Even how Delilah stayed behind and saved my life. It made the entire school respect her even more than they already did.

Before I made my way down to the end-of-year feast I visited the Hospital Wing where Delilah still slept. Atlas by her side not moving, I went and petted his head as he whimpered. I didn't know if she could hear me when I said 'thank you' or 'I love you', but I felt like I might never get another chance.

**Back to Delilah's P.O.V.**

_It was so dark here._

_I didn't even know where here was, but it was dark— so dark, that I couldn’t see. Nothing seemed real. That made it hard not to give up. I kept pushing against the black, though, almost a reflex. I wasn’t trying to lift it. I was just resisting. Not allowing it to crush me completely._

_I wasn’t Atlas— the actual Greek God, not my phoenix— and the black felt as heavy as a planet; I couldn’t shoulder it. All I could do was not be entirely obliterated. It was sort of the pattern to my life—I’d never been strong enough to deal with the things outside my control, to attack the enemies or outrun them. To avoid the pain. Always like a human and weak, the only thing I’d ever been able to do was keep going._

_Endure. Survive._

_It had been enough up to this point. It would have to be enough today. I would endure this until help came. I knew my mom and dad would be wanting me to do everything I can. They would not want me to give up. Neither would I. I held the blackness of nonexistence at bay by inches._

_It wasn’t enough, though— that determination. As the time ground on and on and the darkness gained by tiny eighths and sixteenths of my inches, I needed something more to draw strength from._

  _Nothing._

_It terrified me, and I wondered if it was too late. I felt myself slipping—there was nothing to hold on to._

_No! I had to survive this. Harry was depending on me. Ron, Hermione, grandpa D., Miss Kathie..._

_That spot of heat in my phantom hands felt so real. I clutched it closer. It was exactly where my heart should be. Holding tight the warm memory of every embrace I've shared with my friends, I knew that I would be able to fight the darkness as long as I needed to._

_The warmth beside my heart got more and more real, warmer and warmer. Hotter. The heat was so real it was hard to believe that I was imagining it._

_Hotter._

_Uncomfortable now. Too hot. Much, much too hot._

_Like grabbing the wrong end of a curling iron—my automatic response was to drop the scorching thing in my arms. But there was nothing in my arms. My arms were not curled to my chest. My arms were dead things lying somewhere at my side. The heat was inside me._

_The burning grew—rose and peaked and rose again until it surpassed anything I’d ever felt._

_I felt the pulse behind the fire raging now in my chest and realized that I’d found my heart again, just in time to wish I never had. To wish that I’d embraced the blackness while I’d still had the chance. I wanted to raise my arms and claw my chest open and rip the heart from it— anything to get rid of this torture. But I couldn’t feel my arms, couldn’t move one vanished finger. I knew what was happening._

  _I was phasing into my new true animal. It was now going to be three out of seven. Why seven? I never knew... but just a little more of the pain... and I would be, again._

_The endless burn raged on._

_It could have been seconds or days, weeks or years, but, eventually, time came to mean something again._

_Two things happened together, grew from each other so that I didn’t know which came first: time restarted, and I got stronger._

_I could feel the control of my body come back to me in increments, and those increments were my first markers of the time passing. I knew it when I was able to twitch my toes and twist my fingers into fists. I knew it, but I did not act on it._

_Though the fire did not decrease one tiny degree— in fact, I began to develop a new capacity for experiencing it, a new sensitivity to appreciate, separately, each blistering tongue of flame that licked through my veins— I discovered that I could think around it._

_I could remember why I shouldn’t scream. It was that bad habit of being silent._

_Mute by choice._

_This happened just in time for me to hold on when the weights left my body. To anyone watching me, there would be no change. But for me, as I struggled to keep the screams and thrashing locked up inside my body, where they couldn’t hurt anyone else, it felt like I’d gone from being tied to the stake as I burned, to gripping that stake to hold myself in the fire._

_I had just enough strength to lie there unmoving while I was charred alive._

_My hearing got clearer and clearer, and I could count the frantic, pounding beats of my heart to mark the time._

_I could count the shallow breaths that gasped through my teeth._

_I could count the low, even breaths that came from somewhere close beside me. These moved slowest, so I concentrated on them. They meant the most time passing. More even than a clock’s pendulum, those breaths pulled me through the burning seconds toward the end. I continued to get stronger, my thoughts clearer. When new noises came, I could listen._

_There were light footsteps, the whisper of air stirred by an opening door. The footsteps got closer, and I felt pressure against the inside of my wrist. I couldn’t feel the coolness of the fingers. The fire blistered away every memory of cool._

_I considered talking for a moment, and then the fire ripped hotter still through my chest, draining in from my elbows and knees. Better not to chance it._

_And then—oh!_

_My heart took off, beating like helicopter blades, the sound almost a single sustained note; it felt like it would grind through my ribs. The fire flared up in the center of my chest, sucking the last remnants of the flames from the rest of my body to fuel the most scorching blaze yet. The pain was enough to stun me, to break through my iron grip on the stake. My back arched, bowed as if the fire was dragging me upward by my heart._

_I allowed no other piece of my body to break rank as my torso slumped back to the bed._

_It became a battle inside me— my sprinting heart racing against the attacking fire. Both were losing. The fire was doomed, having consumed everything that was combustible; my heart galloped toward its last beat._

_The fire constricted, concentrating inside that one remaining human organ with a final, unbearable surge. The surge was answered by a deep, hollow-sounding thud. My heart stuttered twice, and then thudded quietly again just once more..._

~~*~~

I heard squawking. It was a happy squawk.

"What is it, Atlas?" I heard a distant voice say before it was followed by a gasp.

 _Crack_.

My eyes snapped open only to stare back at more blackness as the burning heat warmed up soothingly. I felt myself being surrounded by a golden aura. I blinked and I found my eyes. I could see the light, now. Not what I was looking for, but better than nothing.

But then— oh!

_CRACK!_

I arched my back and let out a... roar... not a scream, but a roar of a _lion_. Like a ray of sun, a golden glow left my body floating upwards creating a roaring lion image, before it seemed to soak into my mouth.

I was constantly panting as I looked over at Madam Pomfrey who had tears brimming in her eyes. She let out a cry of happiness before engulfing me in a warm hug, as I chuckled slightly, but it came out like some sort of chocking growl. Frowning, I looked down at myself and felt my eyes widen in shock as I stared back at huge golden paws.

My third soul animal was a lion.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, imagining myself back into my human self. I felt myself shrink until I was back at my rightful size. Madam Pomfrey helped me off the bed, as I was surprised by my remarkable strength, I knew something felt wrong.

I waited till Madame Pomfrey was gone before I started inspecting myself. I had a new scar— much like the one on my neck, except this one is on my right shoulder. I slowly took off the hospital gown and slipped on my Gryffindor robes before making my way towards the Great Hall. Everyone was looking up the front that no one noticed me standing against the door. I glanced around at the room slightly disappointed.

It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

"Ahem," grandpa D. said. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes... First— to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

I smiled slightly, happily standing where I was as Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid glanced in my direction, their eyes gleaming as I tried hard not to smirk.

"... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. At last there was silence again.

"Second— to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points. Third— to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points— exactly the same as Slytherin. Grandpa D. raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," he said, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom. Finally, I would like to award Miss Delilah Hawkins, for exceptional bravery and saving others before herself seventy points."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him. I couldn't help but chuckle, smiling a small smile and clapping softly from where I stood against the door.

"Which means" grandpa D. called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

"Gryffindor wins the House Cup" I smiled, chuckling; the energy was contagious. I caught eyes with grandpa D.; he straightened giving me a warm, congratulating smile. I smiled back as I pushed myself backwards against the wood and started walking my way towards the common room. I stopped myself short and thought it would be better to wait for my... friends.

It feels good to say that.

Friends.

I nearly gave up the waiting out of impatience, when I heard voices up ahead.

"I wish we could find her!" Harry sighed.

"She can't have gone far! Madame Pomfrey was fuming at her leave from the Hospital, but she is smart... and very silent, she is probably around and we simply can't find her because she is being her quiet self," Hermione insisted.

"Looking for someone!" I asked out loud. I had sneakily made my way back around the corner so they couldn't see me and I was just a mystery voice in the shadows. I leaned against the brick wall and folded my arms over my chest, waiting patiently.

"Deli?" they asked nervously. Harry came to investigate. He rounded the corner that I was in and stopped dead on his tracks the moment he saw me casually leaning against the wall with my arms still folded over my chest. 

"You're alive!" he cried out as he ran over and hugged me making me take step back surprised. I still wasn't used to this kind of interaction with people. My eyes had widened even more as soon I was engulfed in a major group hug.

"Please, get off me!" I pleaded in a small voice, slightly panicking, but then sighed as soon everyone let go, chuckling.

"Still the same old Lee-lee," Fred teased kissing my cheek as George kiss the other, making me blush and look down.

"Lilly?" Harry asked as I was about to make a run for it. I stopped glancing back at him. He surprised again by giving me another big hug.

"Thank you for saving my life," he whispered before pressing his soft warm lips to mine. It was brief, but very sweet and it somehow made my insides jump uncontrollably. He pulled away and smiled as I gave a small nod and smile before we both went to join the others in the great hall. As soon as we entered the big doors, everyone gathered around us to congratulate us. It was funny the way I shocked people by smiling a bit instead of just nodding as usual. I was still my mute self again, but my mute self with a smile. Only Harry, Hermione, Ron and the Weasleys twins knew I spoke... and Malfoy, though I have no intention in speaking to him again. Neville forgot he ever heard me speak. 

It was the best evening of my life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... I would never, ever forget tonight.

I had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. I wasn't surprised to see I had passed all o my classes with the best marks. Unlike Harry and Ron who were completely shocked, both of them passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, also had the best grades of the first years. Even Neville scraped through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. We had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but he had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, our trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays

"I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly; Hagrid was there to take us down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; we were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing— me, sitting quietly— as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans— me, only eating one licorice wand like the first day— as we sped past Muggle towns; pulling off our wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. It took quite a while for us all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting us go through the gate in twos and threes so we didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

Thinking about how eventful the year had been, I sighed as a feeling I never thought I would ever feel again, engulfed me. Happiness.

I was happy.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "all three of you— I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled us as we moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called: "Bye, Harry!" or "Bye, Delilah!”

"See you, Potter!"

"Hope to see you around, Hawkins."

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at us.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry as I nodded in agreement. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!" I head someone call. I looked up and saw a little redheaded girl who looked a lot like a Weasley, jumping up in down in excitement. I'm guessing she is Ron's little sister nice she looks a bit like him— they have the same hair and freckles.

She wasn't pointing at Ron. "Harry Potter!" she squealed before frowning. "Where is Delilah Hawkins? Mom! I want to see—"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point." Mrs. Weasley smiled down at us. "Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley." I nodded in agreement.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?" A purple-faced, mustached, furious looking man asked Harry. I'm upswing it's his uncle. Behind him stood Harry's Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley. I smiled at them then grimaced when Harry's cousin winked at me. I looked at Harry with a _'is he_ _serious?'_ look.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon.

"Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away. Harry hung back for a last word with Ron, Hermione and I.

"See you over the summer, then."

"Hope you have— er— a good holiday," said Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," said Harry, and we were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer...."

I chuckled, smiling and shook my head. I shocked the lives out them as I pulled all three of them into a group hug and thought to them, " _See you next fall._ "

**Author's Note:**

> **ATTENTION** I DO NOT OWN ANY OF J.K. ROWLING'S ORIGINAL CHARACTERS FROM THE ORIGINAL HARRY POTTER. I ONLY OWN DELILAH, HER FAMILY, THE KIDS FROM THE ORPHANAGE, THE ADAMS, AND SOME OTHERS I MIGHT CREATE FURTHER ON.


End file.
